


A Heavy Heart to Carry

by purplehairedwonder



Category: Glee
Genre: Homophobic Language, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 66,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplehairedwonder/pseuds/purplehairedwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a hate crime leaves Blaine in the hospital and re-opens old hurts he'd thought buried, Kurt and Sebastian grudgingly work together to look after him, neither trusting the other not to hurt Blaine further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story title comes from the Florence + the Machine song “Heavy in Your Arms.” And feedback is love!

Blaine flipped through the channels on the living room television without much interest before settling on _SportsCenter_. If nothing else, March Madness recaps would be a good distraction from the complete lack of anything else going on during his Spring Break. It was only early Monday evening and Blaine was already bored out of his skull.

Sam had gone home to Kentucky for the break, and while Blaine could call Tina or Brittany to hang out, that would involve driving to Lima for what would probably just be a trip to the Lima Bean anyway. Blaine had been trying to reach out to the newer members of New Directions in the last few months, especially with them being reinstated into competition, but he still didn’t know any of them well enough to hang out with. And the only other Cheerios he would actually want to spend time with were, well, Tina and Brittany. So.

No, Blaine had resigned himself to spending his Spring Break on his own in Westerville; it wouldn’t be the first time he had the house to himself for an extended period nor would it be the last, he was sure, and he’d have plenty of time to get some homework done and rehearse for his NYADA audition—or so he told himself. Dalton wasn’t on break until next week, either, so if he wanted to see any of the Warblers, it would have to be a quick visit during the evening or on the weekend.

Rolling his eyes at his melodramatic wallowing, Blaine headed into the kitchen and rummaged around until he found his stockpile of takeout menus. His parents had left him money for food while they were on their cruise—and conveniently out of cell range—so at least Blaine’s options were open.

He was contemplating the merits of pizza versus Chinese when the doorbell rang. He headed for the front door, wondering who it could be, and pulled it open only to freeze in shock.

“Hi,” Kurt said, slightly breathless.

Blaine gaped, not trusting his eyes; he had to be dreaming because there was no way Kurt Hummel was standing on his doorstep. Maybe he’d fallen asleep on the couch again…

“Blaine?” Kurt prompted with a frown. “Say something.”

Blaine shook himself. Or maybe this was real after all. “What are you doing here?” he asked, all manners completely forgotten in his surprise.

Kurt laughed, and if Blaine didn’t know better, he’d say Kurt was nervous. “Surprise!”

But that didn’t answer anything. “Kurt.”

Kurt bit his lip before speaking. “Can I, uh, come in? I think… Well, I think we need to talk.”

Blaine felt something in his chest tighten at that. He wasn’t sure what Kurt could have to say to him, especially now that he was dating someone else. They’d been trying to mend their friendship since Kurt had reached out on Thanksgiving and Blaine’s Christmas visit to New York, but Kurt had made it clear that friends were all they were going to be. And Blaine, though it hurt, had accepted that; it was more than he’d ever expected to get anyway, and having his best friend back was infinitely better than not having Kurt in his life at all.

Warily, Blaine stepped aside to let Kurt in and shut the door. “And whatever this is about couldn’t be said over the phone?” he asked, trying to suppress the pang of hurt that arose, considering how most of Blaine’s own efforts to talk had been rebuffed in the last months of their relationship. That and he was feeling a bit blindsided at the moment.

Judging from Kurt’s look, he hadn’t hid it as well as he would’ve liked. But Kurt mostly looked sad, and Blaine wasn’t sure what to do with that. Kurt peeled off his scarf and jacket, and Blaine took them to hang in the closet while Kurt removed his shoes, an automatic response after nearly two years together.

Kurt was wearing dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and a red cardigan under his coat; he looked markedly dressed down, but Blaine didn’t comment—after all, who was he to judge in his jeans and Buckeyes hoodie? He’d only put in a small amount of gel in his hair this morning as well, so he was suddenly feeling a bit naked with Kurt standing in his foyer. With a wave for Kurt to follow, he headed back to the kitchen, the sounds of ESPN echoing through the halls.

Kurt glanced around the house as he trailed Blaine, looking as though he hadn’t been in the house a hundred times before. “Are your parents not here?” he asked once he and Blaine had stopped on opposite sides of the island in the middle of the kitchen. “I saw your mom’s car in the driveway.”

Blaine shrugged. “They’re on a cruise. For their anniversary. They won’t be back for a couple of weeks.” He nodded to the menus spread out on the counter between them. “I was just about to order something for dinner.” He hesitated before asking, “Have you eaten? I can order something for two.”

Kurt glanced down at the counter before nodding. “I’d like that.”

“Chinese okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Blaine nodded and grabbed his phone, walking into the living room as he placed his order. After hanging up, he came back into the kitchen. Kurt was idly flipping through the menus, though he knew most of them by heart already after numerous nights of ordering dinner when Blaine’s parents were out of town. Blaine cleared his throat and Kurt looked up.

“How, uh… When did you get in?” he asked finally.

“This afternoon,” Kurt replied. “NYADA’s on break this week, too.”

Huh. Considering the drive from the airport to Lima and from Lima to Westerville, Kurt must’ve nearly come directly to Blaine’s if he’d only just gotten in a few hours before. “Have you seen your dad?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound like he was fishing for information.

Kurt nodded. “Finn picked me up. I went home first, dropped my suitcase off and spent a few minutes with my dad, but he had treatment. I came here when he left. Carole’s still at work.”

“I see.” Blaine wished in that moment that he had some inkling of what was going on in Kurt’s head so he could have some idea of how to feel about this sudden development. The last thing he’d expected when he’d woken up this morning was to have his ex-boyfriend and love of his life standing in his kitchen before the day was through. “What about  _Vogue_?”

Kurt smiled slightly at the mention of his beloved job. “I’m only working two days a week since I’m back in school, so Isabelle had me work this past weekend so I could take the whole week off.”

“That was nice of her.”

Kurt nodded. “She’s amazing. He paused. “You’d really like her,” he added almost hesitantly.

Blaine blinked. Was Kurt implying what Blaine thought he was? “Maybe I can meet her someday.”

“I’d like that,” Kurt agreed, and wow, he was suggesting what Blaine thought he was after all.

But that left Blaine even more confused. Was it normal to want your best friend to meet your boss? He ran a weary hand over his face. He hated that he and Kurt had descended into small talk. Even the first day they’d met, they’d been beyond such meaningless conversation. He never thought he’d see the day they were only able to speak to each other like acquaintances.

“Kurt—” he began, refusing to continue playing whatever game this was.

But Kurt cut him off. “Adam and I broke up.”

Blaine stared at Kurt, who was watching him with an aura of… resolution, maybe? He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. But if it were true, it would explain some things.

“When?” he asked hoarsely. Belatedly he realized that was probably the least sympathetic thing he could say, but he  _needed_  to know.

“Last week.”

When Kurt wasn’t forthcoming with any more details, Blaine opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by the doorbell. He started, pulled from the strangely intense moment they were sharing.

“I guess the food’s here,” he said lamely and Kurt nodded. “I’ll just…” He gestured toward the door and Kurt bobbed his head in agreement. Blaine all but fled from the room, quickly paying for the food and tipping the delivery guy before returning to the kitchen.

When Kurt was nowhere to be found, Blaine wandered into the living room where Kurt was sitting on the couch with two plates and forks set out on the coffee table. Blaine put the bag of food down and grabbed the remote, hitting mute on the basketball highlights before turning to Kurt.

“Something to drink?”

“Water would be great.”

Blaine nodded and fetched two glasses before joining Kurt on the couch. They sat with some space between them as they wordlessly dished up Kung Pao chicken and fried rice. He was contemplating how to return to the discussion they were having before being interrupted when Kurt spoke.

“When’s your NYADA audition?”

“Couple of weeks,” Blaine replied with a frown between bites.

He and Kurt had been talking about Blaine’s audition since he’d gotten his finalist letter and knew very well when it was scheduled. He’d been helping Blaine narrow down song choices based on his own auditions, with Rachel chiming in with her own input.

“Have you heard back from any of the other schools you applied to?” Kurt asked. And that’s when Blaine realized what he was doing.

“Not yet.” He took a breath, steeling himself to say something he really didn’t  _want_  to, and he felt Kurt tense next to him. “Kurt, if you wanted to talk, why are you avoiding the subject?”

Blaine had been working on being more assertive over the last few months once he’d finally been in the headspace to look back at the breakup and pinpoint where things had gone wrong. With some help from Sam, Tina, and Ms. Pillsbury—well, Mrs. Schuester now—he’d realized that there wasn’t just one moment, but a lot of little ones. And many of them stemmed from Blaine locking down his feelings and not communicating what he needed from Kurt.

Blaine had always repressed things—that was the Anderson way of dealing with emotions, Cooper the emotional tornado aside—and it had only gotten worse after Sadie Hawkins and his father’s implicit disapproval his sexuality, but it hadn’t occurred to him that he might be damaging his relationship by doing it. Being more communicative about his needs was an ongoing process, but he was working on it.

For a long moment, Kurt was silent and Blaine worried he was going to continue deflecting the issue. But finally Kurt put his fork down and turned on the couch to face Blaine, pulling a leg up under him. In the dim room, the television’s bright colors illuminated Kurt’s pale skin and cast moving shadows across his face. Blaine watched in fascination as Kurt started to speak.

“I want to talk, Blaine. I mean it.” He swallowed. “I had this whole speech in my head that I rehearsed on the flight and everything.” He shook his head with a wry smile; it wasn’t a happy expression. “And then you opened the door and it felt like it was the first time I was seeing  _you_  in months. And the entire speech just flew out of my head.”

Blaine frowned, trying to process what he’d just heard. There was a lot there that he wasn’t quite sure what to make of. “You rehearsed a speech for me?” he finally settled on.

Kurt huffed a weak laugh. “Yeah. I had all these things I wanted—no, that I  _needed_ —to tell you. I couldn’t get here fast enough to say them. And then… There you were. And I lost it.”

“‘There I was’?” Blaine echoed. This entire evening was giving him whiplash.

Kurt nodded. “After we broke up, it hurt so much to think about you and what had happened, so I started convincing myself that you were someone else.” Blaine raised an eyebrow and Kurt shrugged. “Like, you were a cheater,” he clarified and Blaine’s chest clenched, but it wasn’t undeserved or inaccurate, “or my ex, but never _you_. But when you opened that door, it was just you standing there. Just Blaine. And I guess I was a bit… overwhelmed?”

Blaine bit his lip. His heart ached to hear about Kurt’s attempts to dehumanize him, but they’d once promised to be completely honest with each other—even if they boys that made that promise wouldn’t recognize them today—and for them to heal, they needed to tell each other these things.

“I just—” Kurt continued, clearly trying to fill the uncomfortable silence that had fallen, “I  _want_  to talk. I mean it, Blaine.” He shook his head and drew himself inward a bit, looking suddenly small. “Could we maybe get some coffee or something?” he asked quietly, furtively glancing around the living room.

Blaine nodded in understanding. They’d shared a lot of firsts in this house, and no doubt the memories were making this harder on Kurt than he’d anticipated—it was the first time he’d been at Blaine’s since the breakup, after all. Blaine himself had spent a good month struggling to sleep in his own bed after his hookup, the memories of his and Kurt’s first time haunting him both awake and asleep.

“There’s a Starbucks in the mall,” Blaine offered. “If you don’t mind—”

“No,” Kurt cut in. “That’s perfect.” The opposite of the Lima Bean.

“Okay,” Blaine whispered.

\-----

It had been a while since Blaine had been to the Westerville Starbucks. He used to go often while he was at Dalton with the other Warblers. But after he met Kurt, they’d taken to getting coffee at the Lima Bean and Blaine had continued frequenting the Lima Bean after the breakup since it was close to McKinley and his friends were constantly in need of a caffeine fix.

It was still early when they pulled into the parking lot, most people eating dinner at this hour rather than getting coffee. They’d taken separate cars by unspoken agreement and went into the shop; there were a few college students with books and laptops in front of them but otherwise it was mostly empty, so they were able to get their drinks quickly and sit down at a table in the back corner.

For a moment, they both stated at their coffee cups, letting the sounds of the coffee shop wash over them. There was a sense of familiarity since they’d had more coffee dates both as friends and as a couple than Blaine could count, but there was a distinct air of wrongness about it. It made Blaine feel as though he had an itch just beneath his skin that he couldn’t reach.

Finally, Kurt gave a resigned sigh and Blaine looked up, watching him carefully.

“So Adam and I broke up,” he repeated.

“I’m sorry.” Kurt leveled an incredulous look at him and Blaine relented. “Okay, maybe not  _that_  sorry.” He shrugged. “But I am sorry you got hurt.”

Kurt seemed to ponder that a moment. “I don’t think I’m actually that hurt, honestly,” he said at last.

Blaine raised an eyebrow. Kurt had gone on and on (okay, maybe Blaine was exaggerating slightly) about his older, mature, NYADA stud of a boyfriend at Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schuester’s wedding, and he always seemed to come up during the conversations they’d started having more often as they repaired their friendship. Kurt seemed happy and Blaine hadn’t been able to begrudge him that, though he disliked the guy immediately when Kurt said he’d named the NYADA glee club after himself  _(“Look Blaine, sometimes I don’t feel like we’re the Warblers. I feel like we’re Blaine and the Pips”_  echoing in his head).

“You seemed happy,” Blaine pointed out.

Kurt took a thoughtful sip of coffee. “I was. For a while, anyway. He was sweet and smart and talented. And he was good to me.”

“So what happened?” Blaine figured that was safe friend territory. Friends told friends about their breakups.

“I uh…” Kurt trailed off, a blush rising in his cheeks. “I slept with him.”

Blaine felt as though Kurt had punched him right in the chest with those words. The air left his lungs in a rush and his insides tightened painfully. He supposed he deserved it after he’d made the same confession back in October, only Blaine had no right to feel hurt by it. He and Kurt hadn’t been together for months and Kurt was an adult, free to date—and sleep with—whoever he wanted. And he was gorgeous; the gay men of New York  _should_  be banging down his door for a shot with him.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less. Logic had no place here.

“Blaine—” Kurt started, moving as if to reach for Blaine’s hand.

“Blaine?” a new voice cut in and Kurt pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned. Blaine and Kurt both turned to see Sebastian, cup of coffee in hand, walking toward them with a surprised look on his face.

Blaine felt the breath return to his lungs at the sight of Sebastian, and his tense muscles loosened. “Sebastian,” he greeted.

“Thought that was you, Killer. Though I’m shocked to see you in a coffee shop outside of the Lima Bean,” he said with a teasing grin.

“And here I thought  _you_  lived at the Lima Bean,” Kurt said coolly.

Sebastian nearly did a double take at the sight of Kurt, but he recovered himself. “Kurt Hummel. Now isn’t this a surprise. Shouldn’t you be living it up in New York?” He inclined his head in a challenge. “And you’d know more about the living arrangements at the Lima Bean than I would, I think.”

He glanced at Blaine, who shrugged. He was still having a hard time believing he and Kurt were sharing space himself.

“Spring Break,” Kurt replied shortly, ignoring the bait. “What are  _you_  doing here?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the accusation in Kurt’s voice. “Relax, Hummel. This is a regular Dalton hangout. The school’s about five minutes down the road, in case you’ve forgotten, and this is the nearest coffee shop.”

Kurt glanced at Blaine for confirmation and Blaine nodded. “I used to come here all the time after rehearsals with Wes and David.”

“Why did we never come here, then?”

Blaine shrugged. “You always wanted to go to the Lima Bean. We spent more time at your house than at the school or my place, anyway, so it was more convenient. And their coffee is better.”

“You guys are on break this week, right?” Sebastian asked Blaine, shamelessly cutting off the conversation.

Kurt huffed indignantly but Blaine nodded. “Yeah. I was just going to stay home. Get some work and rehearsing done.” Of course, Kurt showing up had thrown a wrench into that plan.

“Lame, Anderson,” Sebastian drawled. “Some of the Warblers are having a party Friday night. You should come. You know the guys would love to see you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Hunter’s not going to be there, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Sebastian added with a knowing look. “He’s going home to Colorado Springs Friday afternoon.”

Blaine pondered that a long moment. His relationship with the other Warblers had improved a lot in the last few months and it would be nice to see them outside of the blazers and competition. “Text me the details?” he asked finally.

Sebastian grinned. “I can do that.”

Blaine sighed. “I’m not promising anything, you know.” But it was nice to have the option open.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Blaine glanced over at Kurt, who had been silently watching the exchange with an incredulous look. When he noticed Blaine’s gaze he frowned. This wouldn’t be pretty.

“And how long have you two been friendly?” Kurt demanded.

“Is that really any of your business?” Sebastian asked. “Blaine’s allowed to have his own friends. And his  _ex_  doesn’t have to approve of them.”

“I’d say being friends with someone who nearly blinded him merits some concern, even if it’s from his  _ex_ ,” Kurt retorted with a sneer.

“Look—” Sebastian started, rounding on Kurt.

“Enough!” Both Kurt and Sebastian blinked at Blaine, who’d set his cup down hard on the table. “I’m right here.” Kurt shut his mouth and Sebastian had the decency to look abashed. Blaine turned to Kurt. “Sebastian and I have been talking since Sectionals. He called to apologize about the trophy theft—”

“Which wasn’t my idea,” Sebastian added helpfully.

“And we ended up meeting for coffee,” Blaine finished, ignoring the interruption. “Hunter may not be my favorite person, but most of the other Warblers reached out about my eye. It’s in the past.”

Blaine, in truth, had been holding onto that betrayal far longer than he’d expected to, especially since he tended to forgive people quickly in an effort to please everyone, but after he’d made his own huge mistake, he’d realized that he didn’t have any right to ask for forgiveness for his own screw ups if he couldn’t forgive those who’d wronged him and tried to make amends. Letting that go had made him feel lighter than he had in months.

And rekindling his friendship with Sebastian had been an added bonus. So far, he seemed to be sticking to the new leaf he’d claimed to have turned over, and they’d quickly returned to the wry, teasing friendship they’d formed prior to competition and jealousy getting in the way the previous year. Sebastian always seemed to turn into a jackass when Kurt was around, but when it was just the two of them, they had a lot of fun.

Sebastian had even become an unexpected source of support as Blaine worked through the breakup and started trying to improve himself since he was doing similar work on himself. He made Blaine feel as though he was being heard, and it had made a huge difference in their friendship.

But Blaine knew Kurt didn’t want to hear any of that. He made no secret of his dislike of Sebastian and hadn’t been around to see the other boy’s change, so Blaine didn’t blame him for his reaction, not really, but it was still annoying to feel like a toy caught between two fighting dogs.

“And you,” he said to Sebastian, who flashed an innocent look his way that Blaine dismissed with an eye roll, “ _behave_.”

“Fine.” Sebastian looked resigned and Blaine knew that meant he’d play well with others, at least for now.

“No way! Anderson?”

Blaine’s head jerked up at the familiar voice—one that had haunted his nightmares since his freshman year—and saw the unmistakable figure of Roy Matthews looking his way from the coffee line. The former Westerville High quarterback’s eyes lit up when they met Blaine’s.

“Shit, it  _is_. Look at that, Nick. Blaine Anderson in the flesh after all these years.”

The hulking figure next to Roy turned, and Blaine recognized Nick Hewitt, the former Westerville High tight end.

“No shit,” Nick said, a grin playing at his lips.

Blaine went rigid as the two men—they’d been seniors Blaine’s freshman year—left the line and made their way toward the table. Blaine thought he’d put those demons to rest when McKinley had hosted its own Sadie Hawkins dance back in January, but looking at the two guys that had put him and his date in the hospital, they didn’t seem quite so exorcized after all.

He swallowed hard.

“I think that’s close enough,” Sebastian said coldly, pulling Blaine from his reverie. He’d stepped in front of Blaine and had his arms across his chest.

“Aw, that’s cute. Anderson’s got himself a prep school boyfriend,” Roy sneered, eyeing Sebastian’s Dalton jacket. “Always knew that school was full of homos. That’s where you transferred, isn’t it Blainey boy? To be with your kind?”

“Why don’t you back off,” Kurt snapped. Blaine blinked, only then noticing that Kurt was also on his feet, standing next to Sebastian, effectively creating a wall between Blaine and his former tormentors.

A wave of gratitude toward the other boys washed over Blaine at the display. Neither of them knew who these guys were, but they were standing up for him without a thought. Blaine didn’t think he’d be very steady on his own, not with the memories so close even after four years.

“Oh ho,” Nick scoffed. “Anderson’s got himself two boyfriends.” He raked his eyes lewdly over Kurt, whose eyes narrowed dangerously. “This one’s a real fairy, huh? Total flamer.”

“Why don’t you go back to the cave you crawled out of?” Kurt retorted.

“Hey now,” Roy said with a smirk, “we just wanted to say hi to our good friend Blaine here. No harm.” Blaine snorted at that and Sebastian and Kurt both stiffened. “It’s been, what, four years?”

Blaine clenched his jaw and pushed himself to his feet. He knew Kurt was doing the math in his head and would figure out who these guys were soon.

“Back off, Roy,” he said, voice only wavering a little. “You are the last people I’d ever want to see again.”

“He speaks,” Nick said, amused.

“Aw, Blainey, that’s no fun. I thought the last time we were together we really  _hit_  it off.” Blaine tensed with a sharp exhale. “But I don’t blame you for transferring. That boys’ school must be like a wet dream for a cocksucker like you.”

“Watch your mouth, you waste of space,” Sebastian hissed.

“Why don’t you get the hell out of here before someone calls the cops,” Kurt added, nodding toward the bar where the baristas were watching nervously, one of them holding a phone.

“We don’t want any trouble,” she said, voice shaking a bit, when they looked over. “I t-think you guys should leave.”

Roy’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but he nodded and clapped Nick on the shoulder. “No trouble here. We’ll just be going.” He looked back at Blaine and winked, sending a shiver down Blaine’s spine. “See you around, Anderson.”

“Don’t count on it,” Blaine retorted as they ex-football players left.

Once the door shut behind them, Blaine collapsed back into his chair and dropped his face into his hands. How had his day turned into this? A couple of hours ago, he was planning to hole up with bad daytime TV and homework for the week and now he was getting coffee with his ex-boyfriend and confronting the bullies that had left scars, both physical and mental, that had never quite faded.

“Blaine? You okay?” That was Sebastian.

“You’re shaking,” Kurt added worriedly.

Blaine figured he was allowed a moment to wallow after that, so he squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel the phantom dislocation of his shoulder, the cracking of three ribs, the knocks to the head that left him concussed. He could hear the slurs that they’d growled and smell the blood…

But then Blaine forced the memories aside; it had been a long time since they’d been that vivid and it was harder to do than usual. He finally got his breathing under control and dropped his hands from his face. He looked up to see Sebastian and Kurt hovering but still giving him room to breathe. Blaine tried to offer them a smile of thanks but he was pretty sure it came out more like a grimace.

Kurt offered him a cup of water. “The barista brought it over,” he said when Blaine looked at him in surprise.

“Thanks,” he murmured, downing the contents of the small cup.

“Who were those guys?” Sebastian asked once Blaine had set the cup down.

Kurt glared at him, but Blaine shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. They’d stood up for him in what could’ve turned into a dangerous situation; they deserved answers. “Those were two of the guys that put me in the hospital for a week my freshman year after the Sadie Hawkins dance.”

_tbc…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains harsh and homophobic language and some mostly off-screen violence. Tread carefully if that sort of thing squicks you out.

Kurt’s mouth pressed into a thin line at the words while Sebastian’s eyes widened. They both knew that Blaine had been attacked at his old school and that it had prompted his transfer to Dalton, but the only people who knew the extent of the fallout from the attack were his doctors, his parents, Cooper, and the therapist his parents had made him see for a few months during his recovery. He’d never even heard how badly Josh, his date, had been hurt; he’d only been told that Josh had been sent to a Catholic school a few towns over and that he was not to get in touch. 

Once Blaine had started at Dalton, he’d stopped seeing the therapist and had kept the reason for his transfer to himself, though he knew many of the boys had a good idea of why he’d shown up in the middle of the spring semester. Blaine had ended up missing too much of the fall semester at Westerville due to his hospital stay and started too late in the spring at Dalton after his recovery, which had forced him to repeat his freshman year. But no one had given him grief over it and he’d finally started to heal.

But maybe he hadn’t healed as much as he thought, considering his visceral reaction to just Roy’s voice.

“Blaine—” Sebastian started, though he trailed off when he didn’t seem to know what to say after that.

“I’m so sorry,” Kurt said, echoing his words from the first night Blaine had told him about the dance what seemed like a lifetime ago. His voice was laced with so much sympathy that it almost hurt Blaine to hear—especially in light of what Kurt had revealed before they’d been interrupted.

But Blaine shoved that hurt aside, not ready to deal with it on top of everything else. Kurt would be in town all week; they’d be able to talk once Blaine had some time to sort through things.

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry,” he said, voice slightly rough. “I should be thanking you guys. For that,” he added when Kurt and Sebastian exchanged a look.

“There’s nothing to thank us for,” Sebastian said simply, as though creating a human shield between someone and the reminder of his past trauma was an everyday occurrence.

“Blaine,” Kurt added, “you helped me confront Karofsky after knowing me all of a day.”

“But—”

Kurt rolled his eyes in his patented _Bitch Please_ expression, so Blaine dropped it, recognizing that he wasn’t going to get any further with it at this point.

Sebastian looked down at his watch and grimaced. “Crap. I need to get back to campus.” He glanced between Blaine and Kurt uncertainly, knowing things between them were still raw. Another wave of appreciation for Sebastian’s friendship washed over Blaine at that. “Are you going to be okay?”

Blaine nodded wearily. “It’s fine. I’ll call you later.”

Sebastian hesitated before nodding. “Later,” he agreed then left with a wave, weaving between the tables and heading out the door.

Blaine looked up, ready for Kurt to make some comment about him talking to Sebastian only to find a worried expression on Kurt’s face. “Do you want to go home?” he asked. “I know that was…” he trailed off, casting for a fitting word and finally settled on “stressful.”

Blaine snorted. “Understatement, Kurt.” But he shook his head. “Can we go see a movie or something? I just need to take my mind off things for a couple of hours.”

Kurt nodded and they wordlessly tossed their now cold coffees into the trash and, after a thankful wave to the baristas, headed into the mall.

\-----

The movie didn’t end up taking Blaine’s mind off anything. Though they picked something with more explosions and car chases than they usually saw together, Blaine couldn’t keep his thoughts from returning to everything that had been thrown his way in the past few hours.

Not long after the movie started, Kurt slipped his hand into Blaine’s, entwining their fingers and giving a supportive squeeze. A current ran through Blaine’s arm at the touch, but he didn’t pull away and Kurt didn’t let go until the movie ended and the lights went up.

They exited the theater in silence, stopping off to the side of the entrance to avoid the people coming and going. Blaine wrapped his arms around his middle, feeling suddenly cold and exposed out in the open, while Kurt watched him in concern.

“Hey,” Kurt said, “you were thinking pretty loudly in there.”

“I— Yeah. I couldn’t turn my brain off after all, I guess.”

“Do… you want to talk about it?” Kurt asked hesitantly.

Blaine shook his head. His thoughts were all over the place—including thoughts about Kurt himself—but mostly he was just _tired_.

He was tired of being confused by everything Kurt did and said. He was tired of hating himself for wrecking their relationship so that they’d ended up in this confusing place. He was tired of trying so damn hard to be _better_ only to fail so much of the time. He was tired of the push and pull of his Westerville and Lima lives and feeling like he had to give up part of himself to exist in either space. He was tired of being afraid of the demons of his past. He was tired of living in a community in which those demons were still relevant. He was tired of not being good enough for his family and of the snide comments about his sexuality or the colleges he’d applied to.

And Blaine was so damn tired of being tired.

And then there was that part of him that was angry that he was being worn down by all of it.

“Blaine, I…”

“Can we not do this right now?” Blaine asked, curling more in on himself.

Kurt blinked. “Do what?”

“I don’t even know,” Blaine replied sharply, straightening as something snapped inside him. “What _are_ we doing here, Kurt?” he asked, gesturing between them. “You show up on my doorstep out of the blue, say you want to talk, and then tell me you slept with your boyfriend.”

“Ex,” Kurt whispered.

“That’s another thing!” Blaine said. As his voice rose in volume, part of him felt detached, like he was watching himself go off on Kurt and was too fascinated to try to stop it. “You slept with your boyfriend then broke up with him.” He shook his head. “What… What do you want from me, Kurt?” he trailed off weakly as the anger burning inside dissipated.

“Blaine—”

“I was finally moving on,” Blaine whispered, ignoring Kurt’s interjection, “only to have it all thrown in my face tonight.” He wasn’t sure if he was talking about Kurt or Sadie Hawkins at this point. Maybe both. Maybe it didn’t matter.

“Blaine,” Kurt pleaded, voice cracking a bit.

“I just… I can’t do this right now, Kurt,” Blaine repeated.

“Okay,” Kurt whispered miserably. And if Blaine wasn’t so damn tired, he probably would’ve hated himself for putting that pain on Kurt’s face. But as it was… “I’ll just—” Kurt bit his lip and turned to leave.

Blaine sighed heavily. “Kurt, wait. Please.” Kurt stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn around. “I can’t do this _right now_ ,” he emphasized. “Tomorrow?”

Kurt did turn then, looking him in the eye, searching. Finally he nodded. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. I… I need to process. A lot of stuff’s been dredged up tonight. But I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

Blaine’s lip twitched. “Promise.”

“Okay,” Kurt replied. “I’ll hold you to that.” He hesitated before asking, “Are you good to drive home?”

Blaine nodded, making a quick decision. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to get some decaf first.” Kurt opened his mouth but Blaine cut him off. “Go home, Kurt,” he said firmly. “It’s a long drive to Lima.”

Kurt relented and they ended up walking to Starbucks together. They paused in the doorway, and Kurt looked like he wanted to say something but decided better of it.

“Good night, Blaine.”

“See you tomorrow.”

_Never goodbye._

Kurt nodded and headed for his car while Blaine headed to the counter. The shop was pretty much deserted and the barista from earlier gave him a smile when he ordered his drink.

“On the house,” she said when Blaine pulled out his wallet.

He blinked. “Are you sure?”

The barista—her name tag said Katie—nodded. “You look like you could use a pick-me-up after your night.” Blaine smiled weakly at that. “And besides, we’re about to close and the leftover coffee is just gonna get tossed anyway.”

“Thank you,” Blaine said when she set the drink down in front of him. He put a couple of dollars in the tip jar and grinned at Katie’s raised eyebrow. “For earlier.”

Her expression softened. “Those guys are assholes.” Blaine gave her a startled look and Katie blushed. “Well, they are. They think they’re hot stuff because they played for Westerville High a few years ago, won a State Championship or whatever. They’re always rude when they come in and hit on anything with two legs.”

Blaine snorted. That sounded about right from what he remembered of them for the few months he’d been at the school, though his memory of that time was a bit spotty in the wake of the attack.

“I went to high school with them for a few months,” Blaine said, not sure why he was telling a complete stranger—if a Good Samaritan—this, but it felt safe and the two other customers that had been in the shop when Blaine arrived had since packed up and left. “They made my life a living hell and I ended up transferring.”

Katie’s eyes widened. “Shit. So that’s what that was about earlier?” Blaine nodded and Katie shook her head. “Bastards.”

Blaine let out a surprised laugh. Katie’s unfiltered commentary was somehow helping to lift some of the weight from his shoulders. “Definitely.”

They talked for a few more minutes before Katie looked down at her watch and let out a string of curses Blaine was sure her boss wouldn’t approve of. “I’ve got to close up,” she apologized.

Blaine raised his coffee cup to her in a salute. “No problem. I should get home anyway.” Though, as they exchanged goodbyes and Blaine promised to stop by more often, he realized he didn’t really want to face the big, empty house waiting for him with nothing but his thoughts for company. He needed another perspective before he was allowed to be alone with the night’s events.

He pulled out his phone as he stepped into the parking lot and dialed Sebastian’s number. It was nearly curfew at Dalton so Sebastian couldn’t meet him, but Blaine could go there; Thad was Sebastian’s RA so wouldn’t bat an eye at Blaine coming over after hours—hell, he’d probably want to join the conversation.

More than once in the last few months, Blaine had marveled that Sebastian had become someone to call when he needed to talk about something personal, but the other boy had yet to make him regret it. He could be surprisingly insightful when he wanted to be.

Blaine wedged the phone between his shoulder and ear as he surveyed the parking lot; empty on this side of the mall except for his own car. One of the street lights had gone out so it was also dark. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“C’mon, pick up,” Blaine muttered as he dug around his pockets for his keys with his free hand.

“Calling your boyfriend, Anderson?”

Blaine went cold at the voice and straightened, his phone clattering to the ground at his side. Roy was leaning against the hall of the building, a baseball bat resting on his shoulder.

 _Shit_. His free hand finally closed around his car key. If he dropped his coffee and forgot about his phone, he might make it to his car before Roy caught up to him. Blaine had shorter strides, but he was quick.

 _“Hello?”_ Sebastian’s tinny voice answered from his phone on the ground.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Blaine,” Roy said conversationally.

“Do what?” Blaine asked, eyes darting between Roy and his car.

“Run. Not that you have anywhere to go.”

At Roy’s words, Nick materialized from the shadows next to Blaine’s car carrying a crowbar. Blaine’s heart sank. He glanced back toward the door to the coffee shop—no doubt Katie would let him in—only to have his knees nearly give out beneath him.

_“Blaine? Can you hear me?”_

Eric Mitchell, former Westerville High linebacker and the third presence in his nightmares, appeared by the door, cutting off his last escape route. Blaine was completely hemmed in. While he might have been able to take one of them with the boxing skills he’d picked up in the last four years, he had no chance against three oversized former jocks.

“Look at you, Anderson,” Eric said. “Dressed like that, might not even know you were a homo if we didn’t have history.”

Blaine hadn’t bothered to change his sweatshirt and jeans when he and Kurt had left his house. Kurt had always laughed and affectionately called him _such a boy_ when he was dressed down like he was now.

“Just trying to hide his disease,” Roy said, pushing himself up from the wall and gripping the bat more firmly. “Here I thought we’d taught you your place, Blaine. Homos aren’t welcome here.”

“And he even had two others with him,” Nick added, also closing in.

 _“Blaine, say something! Where are you?”_ Sebastian’s voice demanded. _“Shit!”_

Blaine was frozen to the spot, his gaze going helplessly between the three men as they circled him like lions stalking wounded prey. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. It was too much… Too much like before…

“You spreading your AIDS around here, Anderson?” Eric sneered. “We don’t want that shit ‘round here.”

Roy studied Blaine a long moment, making Blaine feel bare under his roving eye. Sweat was beading on his forehead and a drop slid down his cheek.

“Do you suck your boyfriends’ cocks, Blaine? Are you a good little cocksucker? Or do you fuck them up the ass?”

“Nah,” Nick said, eyes glinting in the moonlight. “I’ll be he takes it. Like a little bitch.”

Eric laughed, a harsh barking sound that sent a shiver down Blaine’s spine. “Fucking faggots.”

_“Dammit, Blaine!”_

Blaine was too terrified by the way the three were closing in on him to be offended by the slurs. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard them—or worse—and words only had power if he let them ( _“Prejudice is just ignorance, Kurt”_ ). But the bat and crowbar were another story.

 _They had a bat and crowbar that night, too,_ Blaine thought detachedly.         

A kick at the back of Blaine’s knees knocked him forward. He hissed as he dropped to his hands and knees, the pavement slicing his skin.

_“Blaine!”_

Blaine’s phone was on the ground next to his foot and it seemed that Sebastian had stayed on the line. Blaine briefly wondered how much of the conversation Sebastian had heard; it must’ve been enough for him to start freaking out.

His eyes widened when he saw Nick raise the crowbar, so in a last ditch effort to get help, he grabbed the phone and hurriedly whispered “Starbucks” before the metal connected with his unprotected midsection. He cried out at the sharp burst of pain and dropped the phone.

He curled in on himself as they blows rained down and was soon lost in the haze of pain, blood, and his screams.

\-----

Sebastian was opening the door to his dorm after a shower when he heard his phone ringing. He shut the door behind him, once again thankful that, as a senior, he had a single, and moved across the room, grabbing his phone off the desk. It was Blaine.

He briefly worried that something had happened after he’d left Blaine alone with Kurt in the coffee shop a few hours earlier; he knew Blaine had taken the breakup hard—the boy that had come to Dalton after Hunter had stolen the New Directions’ Nationals trophy had seemed hollowed out somehow—and it had taken him a long time to start forgiving himself for cheating. Blaine’d only started moving on from what he’d lost in the last couple of months, and it would kill Sebastian to see that progress lost because Hummel randomly reappeared on the scene making promises he couldn’t keep.

He’d seen Blaine’s conflict in his face and posture, discomfort and wariness warring with hope, when he’d interrupted the conversation at Starbucks, though he hadn’t recognized Kurt as his conversation partner until he’d spoken. Pieces had fallen into place at that and the need to protect Blaine from Kurt had hit him with surprising force.

Sebastian knew he was kidding himself if he even entertained the thought that Blaine wasn’t still in love with Kurt. Kurt would always be his weakness—time and time again the normally intelligent, put-together Blaine would fall to incoherent pieces because of him. Sebastian both hated Kurt for having that power over Blaine and envied him; he hated that Kurt didn’t seem to understand the power he held, wielding it in ways that only broke Blaine’s heart. If he had that power, Sebastian wouldn’t take it for granted. He would look at is as something precious to be matched only by Sebastian’s devotion to Blaine.

But Blaine didn’t see him like that, not with Kurt forever in his periphery.

And Jesus Christ, when had Sebastian gotten so sentimental? He shook his head at himself and answered the call.

“Hello?” he greeted, though when Blaine didn’t immediately respond, he knew something was wrong.

 _“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Blaine,”_ a faint voice said on the other end, words muffled as though they were coming from a distance.

 _“Do what?”_ That was Blaine. He sounded closer than the first person, but was still far from the phone. What the hell?

_“Run. Not that you have anywhere to go.”_

Sebastian didn’t like the sound of that. That voice sound familiar, though Sebastian couldn’t quite place it. “Blaine?” he said again, worry gnawing at his gut. “Can you hear me?” He was already going through his dresser and pulling on boxers, jeans, and a t-shirt one-handed.

 _“Look at you, Anderson,”_ a different voice said. _“Dressed like that, might not even know you were a homo if we didn’t have history.”_

Sebastian didn’t recognize that voice but the owner seemed to know Blaine. And was a homophobic asshole to boot. What was going on?

 _“Just trying to hide his disease,”_ the first voice said again. _“Here I thought we’d taught you your place, Blaine. Homos aren’t welcome here.”_

 _Oh. Fuck._ Sebastian knew that voice; that was one of the guys that had threatened Blaine at Starbucks earlier.

 _“And he even had two others with him,”_ said another voice. That must’ve been the second guy. Were they stalking Blaine after running into him earlier, waiting for him to leave so they could traumatize him more than they already had? What kind of sick bastards were these guys?

“Blaine, say something! Where are you?” Sebastian demanded, officially freaking out. He pulled a hoodie over his t-shirt and dug around for his wallet and keys. He made it to the door before remembering he needed shoes. “Shit!” He ran to his closet and pulled on a pair of sneakers without bothering to re-lace them and then was out the door again.

“Sebastian!” Sebastian cursed and turned to see Thad standing in his doorway. “Where are you going?”

For a moment, Sebastian debated whether or not to tell Thad what he thought was going on but decided not to worry the other boy. He didn’t even know exactly. “Emergency,” he said simply, then took off down the hall at a jog.

“Sebastian!” Thad called again, but Sebastian ignored him and turned his attention back to the other end of the line. He must have missed some of those assholes’ witty banter while Thad was holding him up, but otherwise it didn’t sound like anything had happened. Yet.

_“Nah, I’ll be he takes it. Like a little bitch.”_

There was a barking laugh that sounded a lot closer than before. _“Fucking faggots.”_

“Dammit, Blaine!” Sebastian cursed as he picked up his pace through the dorm hallways and down the stairs. _Just tell me where you are! I’m coming._ Sebastian had just burst through the doors to the boarders’ parking lot when he heard a thud and Blaine hiss in pain.

“Blaine!”

Sebastian was unlocking his car when he heard Blaine hoarsely whisper _“Starbucks”_ and then cry out. Sebastian’s insides clenched hard at the sounds of hard objects connecting with flesh. But the worst were Blaine’s cries of pain. For a moment, Sebastian stood in the parking lot, one hand on his car door and jaw slack in shock at what he was hearing. Then Blaine whimpered _“Please”_ and the other men laughed—fucking _laughed_ —and Sebastian was in motion again.

Blaine was at Starbucks. That was only five minutes from campus, three if he didn’t obey any traffic laws. Blaine’s cries and the sounds of abuse echoed through Sebastian’s ears as he frantically started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

And then the call went dead.

It took a moment for Sebastian to realize he wasn’t hearing screams anymore, but when he did he let off a string of curses and checked his phone—the call had been lost. If he’d thought the worst was hearing Blaine in pain, he knew then that he’d been wrong; not knowing what was going on was infinitely worse.

After a moment’s indecision, Sebastian dialed 9-1-1.

 _“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”_ the dispatcher asked.

“I need an ambulance at the Westerville Starbucks. My friend’s been… My friend’s been attacked,” Sebastian said, struggling to form the words as his foot pressed down on the accelerator. _Just a couple of minutes, Blaine. Hang on._

_“Is your friend conscious?”_

“I don’t know. I was… I was on the phone with him when it happened. I heard it and then the call dropped. Fuck. Hurry.”

_“I’m sending help right now. Can you tell me your name?”_

“Sebastian. Sebastian Smythe.”

_“Good, Sebastian. I need you to stay calm. What’s your friend’s name?”_

“Blaine Anderson.”

Sebastian continued answering the dispatcher’s questions as best he could until he swung his car into the Starbucks parking lot. It was empty except for Blaine’s car, right where it had been parked when Sebastian had left earlier in the evening. Sebastian parked crookedly near Blaine’s car and jumped out of his car while the dispatcher tried to keep him talking. Distant sirens approaching and the dispatcher’s voice faded into white noise when he saw the still figure on the ground near the door.

It was dark in the parking lot, but Sebastian recognized the hoodie and jeans that Blaine had been wearing earlier.

“Shit, Blaine!”

Sebastian nauseously noted the bloody footprints leading away from Blaine and the crowbar tossed carelessly off to the side of Blaine’s still form as he rushed to his friend’s side. Sebastian made to reach out but recoiled when he saw the state Blaine was in.

He was unconscious, crumpled face-down on the concrete. His right arm was sticking out an angle that couldn’t be natural and there was a small puddle of blood under his chest. There was also a large gash on his forehead. Under the blood, he looked incredibly pale.

His phone was on the ground about five feet away, the screen smashed like it had been stepped on.

And then there were piercing sirens, bright blue and white lights illuminating the parking lot—and god there was a lot of blood on Blaine’s clothes—loud voices in his ears, and strong hands pulling him away.

\----- 

Kurt was about halfway to Lima when his phone rang. He would have ignored it while driving at night with the ever-present danger of deer on the highway, but he’d been hoping to hear from Blaine. He was still reeling over Blaine exploding him, though he probably deserved it for springing things on Blaine like he had. He’d wanted the visit to be happy surprise, but he hadn’t gotten the chance to get to the happy part of his story before they’d been interrupted, and things had only gotten worse as the night had progressed.

 _“These three guys, they beat the living crap out of us,”_ Blaine had told him the night Kurt had asked him to junior prom. Kurt had been horrified for his boyfriend, but he hadn’t really _understood_ and had never asked him to elaborate.

Oh, he’d thought he’d understood, having been locker checked, thrown into dumpsters, and his life threatened. But seeing the guys that had assaulted Blaine, huge former jocks spilling so much hate, and the way they made Blaine shut down and hearing that they’d put Blaine in the hospital for a _month_ … Well, Kurt was suddenly wishing he’d asked Blaine to explain more.

And he was wishing he’d had the courage to actually talk to Blaine at his house and avoid the whole Starbucks mess in the first place. If only he could have gotten the whole Adam story out in the open so Blaine could’ve understood why Kurt was really there...

He hadn’t been planning to come home for break at all, but then he’d ended things with Adam, and after that he’d needed to talk to Blaine, and that had to be done in person.

But when Blaine had opened the door, he’d looked so casual and relaxed—a side of him that so few people ever got to see—in his jeans, hoodie, and curly hair that Kurt had completely forgotten what he’d wanted to say. He was just Blaine, the love of Kurt’s life. And he still took Kurt’s breath away despite—or maybe because of—everything that had happened between them.

He’d fought the urge to pull Blaine into a kiss on the spot, the other boy’s shocked and slightly wary expression keeping him at bay. He’d had to fight the urge to take his hand at Starbucks as well; it was his natural response when Blaine got upset, but it hadn’t been his place.

And there had been Sebastian. And two of _these three guys_. And a movie. And “What _are_ we doing here, Kurt?”

But there had also been “Tomorrow” and “Promise.” Kurt had to hold onto that and let Blaine work through what he needed to; for Blaine, Kurt could be patient.

Blaine’s temper was generally short and explosive; he tended to internalize things until he burst, but the anger was swiftly exhausted and he was quick to cool down. Longer periods of anger were rare and usually masked some deeper hurt, so Kurt hoped this instance was one of the former since he’d seemed to deflate almost immediately after his outburst.

Kurt picked up the phone as it continued to ring and bit back a disappointed sigh when the number wasn’t Blaine’s. It wasn’t one Kurt was familiar with at all, but he took the call since he was already holding the phone anyway.

“Hello?”

_“Kurt?”_

Kurt frowned. The voice was familiar… “Who is this?”

A sigh. “ _It’s Sebastian.”_

Kurt’s eyes narrowed, immediately feeling defensive. “What could you possibly want, Sebastian?”

 _“You, uh, you need to get back to Westerville. Now.”_ He sounded… tired.

“What are you talking about? Why?”

 _“It’s Blaine. He’s in the hospital.”_ Sebastian’s voice cracked and Kurt was sure his heart skipped a beat. His entire body tensed up, fingers clenching hard around the steering wheel. _“It’s bad, Kurt.”_

Kurt signaled for the next exit to turn around, his body moving on autopilot.

“I’m on my way.”

_tbc…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I tried to research this chapter as well as I could in regards to all the medical goings on, but if anything strikes you as off, chalk it up to creative license.

It didn’t take long for Kurt to spot Sebastian in the ER waiting room. The other boy was sitting in one of the plastic chairs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and staring uncomprehendingly at a clipboard in his hands. Kurt bit his lip and strode over.

“How is he?” Kurt demanded, crossing his arms. “What the hell happened?”

Sebastian hadn’t said much else on the phone, just repeating that Kurt needed to come back to Westerville when Kurt had asked what had happened and then hanging up. Kurt had driven back to Westerville as quickly as he could, pushing the limits of every posted traffic law. His thoughts raced with scenarios of what could have happened to Blaine in the hour since they’d seen each other, each worse than the last. He needed someone to put his imagination out of its misery.

Sebastian didn’t look up from the clipboard. “They gave me this clipboard to fill out with Blaine’s information, but I realized I don’t know any of it. We’ve been friends for months and I don’t…” He trailed off then shook his head, seeming to snap out of whatever daze he was in, and looked up at Kurt. He looked pale and shaky, which did nothing to soothe Kurt’s nerves.

“He’s, uh, he’s in surgery. They’re not really telling me anything else because I’m not family.”

Kurt rubbed a hand over his face and collapsed into the chair next to Sebastian. “His parents are out of the country right now and Cooper’s in California.”

“Oh.”

Kurt nodded, and for a moment they sat in silence, the sounds of the ER washing over them. It wasn’t particularly busy, but there was still a bustle going on around them. The sounds were familiar after all the time Kurt had spent in hospitals, but Kurt couldn’t take any comfort from the familiarity; he _hated_ hospitals. Needing a distraction but not quite willing to engage Sebastian in conversation yet despite his need to know what was going on, Kurt plucked the clipboard from the other boy’s hands. Sebastian blinked at him and Kurt shrugged.

“I know most of his information. I filled the paperwork out for him last time.”

A guilty look crossed Sebastian’s face at that and a wave of satisfaction washed over Kurt as he uncapped the pen. _You_ should _feel bad. He had to have surgery because of_ you, he thought viciously as he started filling in the required information. It didn’t help Kurt’s hard feelings over the whole thing that the slushie had been aimed at him in the first place; without Blaine’s white knight complex, Kurt could’ve been in his place.

Once Kurt finished filling out the paperwork, he rose and walked over to the reception desk to hand it over. “For Blaine Anderson,” he said and the receptionist nodded absently as she took the forms.

“Look,” he said after a moment as she started typing information into the computer, “Blaine’s parents aren’t even in the country right now and his brother lives across the country. My friend,” he said, his mouth twisting over the word, with a nod back toward Sebastian, “and I are the only people here with him. Is there any way we can find out how he’s doing?”

The receptionist looked up at him, a sympathetic look on her face. “Sorry, hon. We can only give that information to family. But if he’s admitted, you can come see him during visiting hours.”

Kurt’s stomach clenched painfully at that. He _needed_ to know what was going on with Blaine. He’d wrangle whatever he could out of Sebastian eventually, but right now he needed to know if Blaine was all right. “But—”

“Federal regulations,” the receptionist interrupted, not unkindly. Kurt wanted to pull his hair out—or maybe the receptionist’s—but realistically he knew that it wasn’t her fault. She was just doing her job. But that didn’t ease the frustration.

After a moment, the receptionist typed something into the computer and frowned thoughtfully. “Though I do see there’s a Burt Hummel listed as an emergency contact.”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “That’s my father! I’m Kurt Hummel.”

The receptionist gave him a smile. “I’ll tell you what, Kurt. If you can get your father down here, we’ll be able to relay information about Blaine’s condition to him. Without immediate family, that’s the best we can do. If I were you, I would try to get in touch with his brother, though.”

Kurt nodded. “I will,” he agreed, though he didn’t plan to call Cooper until he had more information besides _Blaine’s in the hospital again._ “Thank you.”

He walked back over to Sebastian, who was watching him curiously.

“What happened?” he asked.

“My dad is listed as one of Blaine’s emergency contacts,” Kurt replied, pulling his phone from his pocket. “They said that they could give him information about Blaine, so I’m about to call him.”

Sebastian nodded but Kurt was already walking out the door and dialing his father’s number.

 _“Kurt?”_ his father answered on the second ring as Kurt stopped about ten feet from the ER doors.  _“Where are you, bud? It’s starting to get late.”_ He laughed at himself a bit. _“Though I guess you’re getting a bit old for a curfew now.”_

Kurt swallowed, suddenly finding it hard to speak. “I’m, uh, I’m at the hospital. In Westerville.”

His father inhaled sharply. _“Are you okay?”_ he asked immediately. _“What happened?”_

“I’m fine,” Kurt replied quickly. He didn’t want to stress his father out any more than he had to with this. He knew the treatments were going well, but added stress would definitely not help. “It’s Blaine.”

Burt cursed. _“What happened?”_

“I… I don’t know. They won’t tell us anything because we’re not family.”

_“Us?”_

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose. “Me and Sebastian.”

 _“That kid from the Warblers you don’t like? The one who hurt Blaine last time?”_ Burt demanded, voice getting sharper as he recognized the name.

“That’s him.”

 _“Why is_ he _there?”_ Burt actually sounded angry at that.

Kurt couldn’t help a small smile at his father’s protectiveness; he knew his father and Blaine had a good relationship—Kurt had always loved it since they were the two most important people in his life, not to mention that Blaine didn’t get along very well with his own father.

Kurt shrugged, though he knew his father couldn’t see him. “I don’t know the full story, but he didn’t _do_ anything this time, Dad,” he said quickly. He might not particularly like Sebastian, but the other boy _had_ stood between Blaine and his bullies earlier that afternoon; as much as it pained him to admit, Sebastian deserved a modicum of credit for that.

Kurt’s stomach dropped as a thought occurred to him. _Oh god. Did those guys come back after we left the movie? They put him in the hospital for a_ week _the last time…_

But his father speaking pulled him from his thoughts. _“Where are his parents? Or that brother of his?”_

Kurt clenched his jaw thinking about the oft-absent Andersons. “His parents are on some kind of cruise and won’t be back for a couple of weeks. Cooper’s in L.A. Even if we can get in touch with him, there’s no telling when he’d actually get here.”

Burt huffed irritably. _“So what now?”_

“Blaine has you listed as an emergency contact.” Kurt took a steadying breath. “They said they could give you information about him.”

_“I’m on my way.”_

“Dad, are you sure?” Kurt asked, biting his lip. Yes, he wanted his father to come more than anything so they could _finally_ get some answers about Blaine—and some fatherly support never hurt—but at the same time, he was also sick and Westerville was a long drive from Lima. And it was getting late. Kurt didn’t want him to push himself too hard while he was still getting treatments.

 _“Kurt,”_ Burt said simply in a tone that brooked no argument.

Kurt let out a relieved breath, feeling tight muscles loosen at the single word. “Thank you.”

 _“You call me if anything changes,”_ Burt said, and Kurt could hear the jingle of keys and the rustle of the coat closet in the background. _“And try to get in touch with Cooper while you’re at it.”_

“Okay.”

_“I love you, Kurt.”_

“I love you, too, Dad.”

Kurt hung up the call and shut his eyes a moment, just breathing the cool night air.  And then he opened his eyes, squared his shoulders, and walked back into the Emergency Room. He found Sebastian mostly in the same position he’d left him. He took a moment to study the other boy without his knowledge; Sebastian was wearing jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers, which were a far cry from the Dalton blazer and tie he’d been wearing a few hours earlier. His hair was mussed and, Kurt noticed for the first time, longer than it had been the previous spring. His usual upright posture was slouched, and he looked exhausted.

When Kurt sat down next to him, he started in surprise but masked the reaction quickly when he saw who was next to him.

“What happened?”

“My dad’s on his way.”

Sebastian nodded and fell silent again. There was something far away in his eyes that Kurt didn’t like the look of.

“So what happened?” Kurt asked, voice a lot calmer than he felt, knowing Blaine was somewhere in the hospital undergoing surgery for unknown injuries. “Why are _you_ here?”

Sebastian gave him a Look at the accusation in his voice, but Kurt didn’t back down, arching a challenging eyebrow in return. Kurt could do this, could face Sebastian; it was a lot easier than letting the implications of where he was really hit him. They looked at each other a long moment before Sebastian sighed and looked away.

“I _heard_ it.” His voice was quiet and pained.

“Heard what?”

“The attack.”

Kurt felt the air leave his lungs in a rush. “Attack?” he managed to repeat in horror.

Sebastian nodded tightly. “Blaine, uh. He called me.”

Kurt let that sink in a moment. Blaine must’ve called once they’d parted ways after the movie.

_“I can’t do this right now, Kurt.”_

_“I… I need to process. A lot of stuff’s been dredged up tonight. But I’ll text you tomorrow.”_

Apparently, Kurt thought with a bitterness that startled him, Blaine thought Sebastian, of all people, could help him process. Not Kurt, who he’d once felt like he could tell anything, but Sebastian, the guy who’d tried to break them up and had nearly blinded him.

For a brief moment, Kurt wondered if he’d stumbled into an alternate reality, but then again… This was the same reality in which Blaine had cheated on him—but _not_ with Sebastian—so what did Kurt know?

“But when I answered,” Sebastian was saying as Kurt was pulled from his reverie, “I could hear these other guys on the line.” He shook his head. “Well, other guys and Blaine. I think he’d dropped his phone so I was just listening in.”

“Were they the same guys?” Kurt asked, clenching his jaw nervously. “As earlier?”

Sebastian nodded and described the hateful slurs being thrown at Blaine. Kurt shut his eyes and felt himself shaking in anger as the other boy spoke. When Sebastian said that Blaine managed to communicate that he was at Starbucks, Kurt’s eyes flew open and his breath caught in his throat.

 _He never even left the mall_ , he realized in horror. _I never should’ve left him. I should’ve waited for him to get his coffee and walked to the car with him. I should’ve made sure he got home okay even though he said he was fine. I should’ve…_

Kurt’s _should haves_ were cut off as Sebastian continued speaking, recounting hearing Blaine’s cries of pain as he drove toward the mall. Feeling nauseous, Kurt glanced over at Sebastian and realized he looked as sick as Kurt felt.

Kurt could remember the sound of Blaine’s screams in that parking garage after he’d been hit by the slushie; they’d haunted him for months after the incident. But the way Sebastian described these cries, high-pitched, almost animalistic, and begging, Kurt couldn’t even imagine…

Kurt realized after a moment that Sebastian had gone quiet. He was looking down at his hands, which were shaking in his lap.

“What happened then?” Kurt asked when it became obvious Sebastian was lost in his thoughts again.

Sebastian jerked in surprise but looked back up at Kurt quickly. “When the call cut out, I called 9-1-1 on the way over. But when I got to Starbucks…”

Sebastian shuddered and Kurt felt dread rising in his gut. Sebastian, who never seemed phased by anything because he’d seen it all, was at a loss for words.

“There was so much blood,” he whispered hollowly and Kurt went cold.

“Sebastian—”

But Sebastian shook his head and Kurt fell silent. _Oh god, Blaine_ echoed through his head like a mantra, the world falling away from around him as his imagination ran wild once more, one horrible scenario replacing another as he sat in the hard, plastic chair in the waiting room.

After a time, Sebastian spoke again, startling Kurt from his macabre musings. “An ambulance and the cops arrived not long after I did,” he said quietly. “They brought Blaine to the hospital and I ended up having to explain to the cops what I knew before they’d let me come here.” He shook his head. “But then they wouldn’t tell me anything about Blaine and I…” He trailed off miserably and Kurt just nodded.

There really wasn’t anything else to say after that.

\-----

Kurt must’ve dozed off at some point because he was suddenly being shaken awake, a large hand gripping his shoulder.

“Kurt. Hey, buddy, wake up,” a familiar voice said.

Kurt blinked against the bright hospital lights when he opened his eyes, but after a moment, his dad’s face came into view.

“Dad!”

Burt’s face cracked into a weak smile. “Hey, kiddo.”

“You made it,” he nearly cried in relief. Because no matter how much of an adult he was trying to play with his life in New York, there were just some things a parent was needed for. This definitely qualified.

“Of course.” He frowned a moment. “Where’s Sebastian?”

Kurt blinked and glanced at the seat next to him, but it was empty. Kurt frowned and glanced around the waiting room until he saw Sebastian walking back toward them with a cup of coffee in his hand. Burt followed his gaze, picking him out immediately. Sebastian stopped a few feet away when he realized they were staring at him.

“You must be Mr. Hummel,” Sebastian said, voice more under control than it had been earlier. He still looked like shit, though, Kurt decided.

“I am,” Burt agreed. “Sebastian, I take it?”

Sebastian nodded, sparing a curious glance at Kurt before turning back to the older man. “Yes sir.”

Burt studied Sebastian long enough that the other boy looked as though he wanted to fidget—much to Kurt’s immense satisfaction—but finally Burt nodded after coming to some kind of conclusion and turned back to Kurt. “I’ll go see what I can find out about Blaine and come back.”

Kurt nodded. “Thank you.”

As Burt headed over to the reception desk, Sebastian flopped down in his seat and took a long gulp of coffee. He grimaced. “Tastes like shit,” he muttered but took another drink anyway. “So that’s the famous Burt Hummel, huh?” he said, watching Burt talk to the receptionist.

The receptionist glanced over Kurt’s way at one point and gave him a reassuring smile and he felt something loosen in his chest. They were finally going to get some answers. But then Sebastian’s words registered.

“Famous?” he repeated in confusion.

Sebastian inclined his head. “Blaine talks about him a lot.”

Something throbbed in Kurt’s chest at that—though he wasn’t sure if it more had to do with Blaine _talking_ to Sebastian or Blaine talking to Sebastian about _Kurt’s father_ —but shoved the ugly feeling aside. This was not the time for any of that, not when Blaine was somewhere in the hospital _hurt_.

“Does he?” he asked in what he hoped was a neutral voice instead.

Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. “Just about what a great guy he is and how he’s like the father Blaine never had.”

 _Oh._ The ugly feeling subsided as Kurt realized that Blaine had been _bragging_ about Kurt’s father to Sebastian. Even after the breakup, Blaine still _loved_ Burt. And, looking over at Burt at the receptionist desk, intently talking to whoever was behind it, Kurt knew that Burt loved Blaine as well.

Intellectually he’d known all along, but especially after Christmas, that Burt and Blaine had a close relationship—much closer than usual for the situation—but somehow seeing and hearing these things was hammering it in all over, making him understand in the concrete rather than the abstract. It was a bit heady, but in a good way.

Sebastian snorted, though the sound was a bit tired. “It reminded me a bit of how the Warblers talked about Blaine last year; I never thought the real Blaine would live up to all the praise, but he somehow surpassed it.”

“And my dad surpassed the hype?” Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I can see what Blaine sees in him,” Sebastian replied, and Kurt figured that was about as high of praise as he was going to hear about his blue collar father from Sebastian.

After a few more moments of Burt conversing with the receptionist at the front desk, a nurse came out of the back and approached Burt. Burt glanced back at Kurt and Sebastian before following the nurse down the hallway and out of sight. Kurt felt his insides tightening in nervousness. He felt Sebastian straighten next to him.

And they waited.

\-----

Kurt thought it might’ve been the longest five minutes of his life—feeling more like five years—as they waited for his dad to come back with news about Blaine.

_Please be okay._

Kurt didn’t believe in God, didn’t feel the need to pray to a higher power for Blaine’s recovery because he didn’t see the point, but he believed in people—and he especially believed in Blaine. So he sent a prayer to Blaine, pleading with him to fight ( _Blaine pounding away at the punching bag in the gym, his strikes making the very air hum with an aura of power and strength, unaware of Kurt watching him in awe in the doorway_ ) and to stay with them. He had so much he still needed to tell him, so much he hadn’t been able to say tonight and that he would regret for the rest of his life if he didn’t get to say.

But finally, Burt emerged from the hallway, looking slightly pale but determined. That had to be good, right?

Both he and Sebastian rose as Burt approached them, and Kurt held his breath. Finally, Burt stopped in front of them and looked between them for a moment before speaking.

“Blaine’s out of surgery. They’ve admitted him to the ICU.”

Kurt’s breath left him in a relieved rush. “He’s okay?” _Alive._

Burt pressed his lips together into a thin line and Kurt felt his nerves ratchet up again. “He’s not conscious,” he said slowly, eyeing both Kurt and Sebastian carefully. “There’s a real long list of injuries, guys. Broken arm. Few broken ribs. Torn ligaments in his knee.”

Kurt’s eyes widened as his father listed the injuries and he felt more than saw Sebastian stiffening next to him. But Sebastian had seen Blaine before—he _knew_ , or at least had some idea of how bad it would be. Kurt wasn’t sure whether that was better or worse than what he was feeling right now.

“But,” Burt continued, “they’re most worried about the swelling in his brain.” Kurt’s hand flew to his mouth as his dad continued speaking. “They’re monitoring it, but the longer he stays unconscious, the worse his chances are.”

It felt as though all the air had been sucked from the room. With a few simple words, Kurt’s world was falling apart around him. Again. _The worse his chances are…_ Blaine could still… not make it.

His mother. His father. His father again. And now Blaine. It was as though he was cursed, those who loved him damned to suffer, and Kurt couldn’t do anything about it but wait and watch and hope. This kind of helplessness was the worst feeling in the world.

“They’re hopeful,” Burt added quickly, pulling Kurt’s attention back to the present. “They got him into surgery quickly, which is good.”

Kurt glanced at Sebastian—it was because of Sebastian that they’d found Blaine quickly and had been able to treat him. The other boy’s expression was stony, but Kurt noticed the tension in his shoulders and the way his hands were balling into fists and releasing them over and over as he listened.

“For now,” Burt said heavily, “all we can do is wait.”

Kurt nodded dumbly, brain still trying to come to terms with everything his father had said. “Can we see him?” he finally managed to ask.

Burt glanced between them a long moment before nodding. “Two visitors at a time in the ICU. I can take one of you up at a time.”

Kurt insisted Sebastian go first since he needed to get back to Dalton, and the other boy agreed without a fight. Burt fixed him with a worried look, but finally relented when Kurt returned the look evenly. Once his father and Sebastian had disappeared down the hallway, Kurt sank back into his seat and dropped his face into his hands.

Letting Sebastian see Blaine first was also selfish; Kurt just wasn’t sure he was ready yet. He was still trying to process how he could go from spending an evening with Blaine eating dinner, getting coffee, and seeing a movie (so much like Before yet so, so different) to sitting in a hospital while Blaine fought for his life.

He remembered with startling clarity the last time Blaine was in the hospital after the slushie the previous year. New Directions had taken him to the ER and hadn’t been told anything then either, but stubbornly they’d waited. Kurt had only been able to think about the feel of Blaine’s strong hands pushing him out of harm’s way and his boyfriend’s subsequent screams. He thought about the feel of Blaine writhing in pain under his hands and the sound of his whimpers and cries.

When Blaine’s mother had arrived, it had been in a whirlwind, and Kurt thought he’d heard her muttering, “Not again. He was supposed to be safe this time” as she’d been taken back to see her son.

Kurt had called his father at some point and eventually the other members of New Directions had been told to go home with a promise of an update in the morning.

Blaine’s mother had eventually given Kurt permission to come back to see Blaine. His boyfriend had been mostly out of it at that point, doped up on painkillers and with a bandage wrapped around his eye. The sight had nearly made Kurt break down, but at a warning look from Mrs. Anderson, Kurt had instead sat down at Blaine’s side. His hand had found Blaine’s and he’d stroked his knuckles gently with this thumb just to let Blaine know that he was there. Blaine had turned his head toward Kurt at the touch and a weak smile had lifted the corners of his lips, but he’d looked so _tired_ that Kurt couldn’t bring himself to disturb him further.

Words like _scratched cornea_ and _surgery_ were thrown around, but all Kurt had been able to do was be there for Blaine, rubbing circles into the back of his hand while Blaine breathed through the haze of painkillers. When Blaine had been discharged a few hours later, Kurt had helped him to his car and promised to come see him first thing in the morning.

He hadn’t slept well that night.

Now Kurt idly wondered now if sleep would ever come again after this.

He had no idea how long he sat alone in the waiting room lost in his thoughts, but he looked up when he heard his father’s voice speaking softly. Burt surprisingly had an arm around Sebastian’s shoulders as they emerged from the hallway. Sebastian looked even paler than he had when Kurt had first arrived at the ER, and the way he wouldn’t quite meet Kurt’s eyes had Kurt’s heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“I should get back to Dalton,” he said finally.

“Yeah.”

“What should I tell the Warblers?” he asked, glancing between Kurt and his father.

Burt raised an eyebrow at Kurt, leaving the decision in his hands. Kurt bit his lip, tempted to tell Sebastian not to tell them anything out of spite considering the way they’d treated Blaine the previous year. But Blaine had been mending fences with them, and Kurt supposed it wasn’t his place to ruin that.

“Tell them the truth,” he said finally. Sebastian raised an eyebrow but Kurt shrugged. “He’s their friend. They deserve to know. Just… tell them to hold off on visiting.”

Sebastian nodded, as though that much was obvious, and after some stilted goodbyes, he was gone.

Kurt turned to his father and Burt looked down at him. “Are you ready?”

Kurt swallowed. “No. But I need to be there.”

Burt nodded and wrapped an arm around Kurt’s shoulders, much like he’d been supporting Sebastian a few minutes before, and they headed down the hallway. The receptionist gave Kurt a supportive smile as they passed, but Kurt felt too nervous to return it.

Kurt mostly zoned out as they walked through the hallways, letting his father take the lead. At one point, Kurt was told to turn his phone off and at another to wash his hands, both of which he did without comment. And then suddenly he was standing in front of Blaine’s room. Burt squeezed his shoulder and led him inside.

Kurt followed but stopped short in the doorway at the sight that greeted him. There were so many machines and wires surrounding the bed…

But Kurt forced himself to focus on the figure in the bed and his breath caught in his throat. Blaine had always been small, though his energy had always made him seem so much bigger than his compact size, but lying in the bed with various machines connected to him, he looked _tiny_.

Kurt felt tears forming in the corners of his eyes as Burt beckoned him closer to the bed. Kurt carefully avoided the machines and wires as he made his way to Blaine’s side.

Blaine was sitting upright in the bed, but his eyes were closed. Bruises were forming on his pale cheek. There was a bandage wrapped around his head, and there was a wire connected to…

Oh god, that wire went _into_ Blaine’s skull. Kurt let out a hitched breath and Burt squeezed his shoulder.

“The nurse said that’s so they can monitor the swelling,” he said softly and proceeded to point out the other machines and wires that Blaine was attached to: the EKG to monitor his heart, the ventilator that was helping him breathe and create enough oxygen flow to his brain, the IV, the catheter…

As Burt spoke, Kurt’s gaze roved over Blaine’s prone form. His right arm was in a cast and there was a brace around his left knee. Bruises were visible on the bare skin of his arms. A couple of his fingers were taped together, and Burt’s words from earlier echoed through his head.

_Long list of injuries… Broken arm… Few broken ribs... Torn ligaments in his knee… Swelling in his brain..._

Kurt sank into the chair at Blaine’s bedside and did the only thing he could think of: he took Blaine’s hand and began stroking his knuckles with this thumb.

 _I’m here, Blaine. Please, come back._  

tbc…


	4. Chapter 4

Sebastian drove back to Dalton in a haze, taking the turns by muscle memory—at least until he passed by the mall. He slowed as he saw flashing lights, crime scene tape, and cops milling around the Starbucks parking lot. He grimaced as images of Blaine’s bloody, limp form flashed across his mind’s eye and pressed down on the accelerator in the vain hope of putting distance between himself and what had happened.

He’d spoken to the cops after they’d arrived and Blaine had been loaded into the ambulance, or at least he’d tried to. His mind was still reeling at hearing a friend being assaulted and finding him left like a piece of trash. He’d answered the cops’ questions about how he knew where to go, the last time he’d seen Blaine, the guys from the coffee shop he’d heard on the phone, and so on as best he could until they’d all blended together.

Once it had been obvious Sebastian was dazed from the ordeal, the police had finally given him the green light to head over to the hospital with the promise that they would be in touch again. It had sounded vaguely intimidating, but Sebastian hadn’t had it in him to care. Intellectually, he knew how these things worked—he was being groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps, after all—but being a part of the process was completely different than hearing about it; being a witness when the victim was someone you cared about…

Sebastian didn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t make connections easily; sure, he had charm and charisma and people gravitated toward him as a leader, but, as his father had told him, it was lonely at the top. But somehow at Dalton he’d made connections he’d never expected—especially Blaine.

There was just something about Blaine that Sebastian couldn’t shake. At first he’d been nothing but a conquest—Sebastian had been drawn to Blaine’s legend and to the idea of claiming both Blaine and his abandoned place atop the Warblers’ pedestal, but as he got to know Blaine, the other boy had become so much more.

Blaine made Sebastian want to become more, better. He’d hurt Blaine, putting him in the hospital, yet Blaine had found it within himself to forgive Sebastian after Karofsky’s suicide attempt. Everything that had gone on between the Warblers and New Directions seemed so pointless in the wake of that. Blaine and Sebastian had struck a tentative truce after Regionals, and Sebastian hadn’t pushed his luck after that. They’d run into each other occasionally over the summer, making cautious small talk when it happened in Westerville, Blaine about his job at Six Flags and Sebastian about lacrosse and working for his father, and ignoring each other in Lima since Blaine was usually with Kurt then.

When Hunter had walked into the library with the New Directions’ Nationals trophy that fall, Sebastian’s stomach dropped. He knew this could turn ugly for everyone involved. Blaine had held onto the betrayal of the Warblers leaving him on the ground in that parking garage for longer than any of them had expected, considering his usually forgiving nature, so for those who had been involved in that incident, the trophy theft was a major gamble.

Sebastian knew the gamble had almost paid off, though; he’d heard from his sources that Blaine had almost transferred back, withdrawing his application at the last minute. He’d later told Sebastian that he hadn’t realized before then how many people at McKinley cared about _him_ rather than him as an extension of Kurt; it had taken a New Directions intervention, but Blaine realized he had a place and friends of his own at McKinley.

Blaine had avoided the Warblers before Sectionals, though Sebastian had gone looking for him before the performances, and there’d been too much chaos after that girl had collapsed, resulting in the Warblers’ win. It had felt somehow hollow to Sebastian that they’d won by default rather than by actually beating the reigning national champions at their best—with Blaine out front where he thrived—and that unease was what had Sebastian calling Blaine that weekend.

_“Hello?”_

“Blaine, hey.”

_“Sebastian?”_ Blaine’s tone was surprised and wary, but he didn’t hang up, which Sebastian took as a win. _“Are you calling to gloat?”_

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, though Blaine couldn’t see him. “Of course not.” Blaine made a disbelieving noise and Sebastian’s lip quirked up. “No point in gloating when we won by disqualification. I’d only gloat if we won fair and square.”

Blaine let out a weak laugh. _“You are a gracious winner, then.”_

“Is that girl who collapsed okay?”

_“Yeah,”_ Blaine said, though he sounded surprised that Sebastian would ask. That was probably fair; Sebastian was going to have to prove to Blaine that he was changing for the better no matter what he said. _“She hadn’t been eating and got dizzy from the stage lights.”_

“That sucks.” And Sebastian found that he actually meant it. He didn’t actually wish harm on any of the members of New Directions, no matter what some of them thought. “It’s too bad you guys didn’t get to finish your set.”

_“You should be glad,”_ Blaine replied with a hint of a smile. _“We would’ve blown you away.”_

Sebastian snorted, the cockiness taking him a bit by surprise—pleasant surprise, of course. He’d missed this teasing friendship they’d had the previous year before things went to shit. “With Blaine Anderson leading the number? I wouldn’t doubt it,” he said easily.

They fell into silence then and it was surprisingly comfortable. _“Why did you call, Sebastian?”_ Blaine finally asked.

Sebastian hesitated. “I…” But he supposed he should just go for it. “I just wanted you to know the trophy thing was Hunter’s idea. I had no idea until he walked into the library with the damn thing.”

Blaine was quiet for a moment before asking, _“And the others?”_

Sebastian grimaced, knowing Blaine was still distrustful of the Warblers he’d once called friends. “They didn’t know either.” He smirked slightly. “Trent nearly had a panic attack when Hunter explained what he was doing.”

_“Good to know.”_

Sebastian decided it was worth pushing since Blaine didn’t seem in any hurry to hang up on him—a vast improvement on the last time he’d tried calling. “They’re worried about you.”

He could practically _hear_ Blaine’s eyebrow rising at that. _“They?”_

“The Warblers,” Sebastian clarified. _The ones you’re still angry at._ “We all are,” he added.

_“I…”_ Blaine trailed off a moment before saying, _“I assume you heard Kurt and I broke up.”_

“Word may have reached Dalton about that, yes.” It had been the talk of the upperclassmen for a good week once the rumor had broken; Blaine hadn’t just been popular among the Warblers, after all. He’d been a rock star, a prince even, at Dalton. No one knew any details, just that there had been a split.

_“Well, uh… It’s been hard. Really hard.”_ There was a lot of emotion there that Sebastian wasn’t sure he could identify.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead.

_“Really?”_ The disbelief practically oozed through the phone.

Sebastian shrugged. “Sorry that you’re hurting? Yes. Sorry that you finally ditched Hummel? Not even a little.” Blaine was too damn good for Kurt Hummel and Sebastian hated that Blaine was hurting so much over him, no matter what had happened between them.

Blaine groaned but he didn’t argue the point. They fell back into that not uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Sebastian broke it. “Do you want to get coffee sometime?”

_“Sebastian…”_

“I’m not asking you out, Anderson,” he said quickly. A doomed-to-fail rebound wouldn’t do either of them any favors. “Just as friends.”

“I…” Blaine was quiet for a long moment as Sebastian held his breath, but then he finally spoke. “Okay. As friends.”

Sebastian let out a relieved breath. “Great.”

They’d ended up getting coffee the next week and talked for three hours before Sebastian had to rush back to Dalton. After that, they’d started meeting a few times a week just to talk and it had been nice. There was no pressure for anything beyond conversation, and they fell into an easy rhythm. Soon they were texting and calling and confiding in each other about the struggles they were having.

Sebastian didn’t know exactly when Blaine had become his best friend, but the realization had been heady.

And now, Sebastian’s best friend was comatose in the hospital, fighting for his life because of three homophobic assholes.

Wearily, Sebastian pulled into the Dalton parking lot and trudged up the stairs, exhaustion weighing down his limbs. Thankfully, he didn’t run into anyone along the way. As he walked down the hallway, he saw some lights on and could hear music or typing coming from behind some of the doors, but most of the students were asleep by now. Sebastian was barely staying upright, but he had a feeling that the moment he shut his eyes, he was going to see Blaine, broken and bleeding, and hear him begging and screaming in pain. He wasn’t sure if he could face that tonight.

He slid the key into his door and opened it, but blinked when he noticed the light was on. His eyes widened when he saw Thad sitting at his desk. The other boy turned when he walked in, arms crossed against his chest.

“Jesus, Sebastian. It’s almost two. I’ve been calling you for hours. Where the hell wh—” He stopped once he got a look at Sebastian’s face. “You look like shit.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes as he dropped his keys and phone onto his bed. “Just what I want to hear after spending a night with Kurt Hummel in the emergency room.” Because he knew Kurt had been judging him during those hours they’d spent waiting for information when none was forthcoming.

Thad’s eyes widened, and Sebastian realized what he’d just said. _Shit._

“Emergency room? What happ—” He tripped over his words as Sebastian’s words registered fully. “With Kurt?”

And every Warbler knew full well that there was one thing Sebastian Smythe and Kurt Hummel had in common…

Thad’s voice was hushed as he asked “Did something happen to Blaine?”

\-----

Kurt had no idea how long he stayed at Blaine’s bedside, fingers absently tracing random patterns on the back of the other boy’s hand. His father had taken a seat on the other side of the bed, and the few times Kurt managed to pull his gaze from Blaine’s pale, lax face to look at Burt, his father’s expression had been unreadable.

Eventually, a nurse had come in to check on Blaine and had _encouraged_ the Hummels to go home and sleep.

“We need to run some more tests on Blaine. You won’t be doing him much good sitting in the waiting room, anyway,” she said, not unkindly

Burt had risen and pulled gently at Kurt’s elbow, guiding him to his feet. Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand one more time and murmured, “We’ll be back tomorrow, Blaine,” before letting his father lead him from the room.

The further they got from Blaine’s room, the more Kurt deflated, as though the energy it took to stay upright was draining from his body with every step. He felt hollowed out. Burt’s grip on his shoulders only tightened as they walked, though, and Kurt was grateful for the silent support. Kurt shoved his hand into his jacket pocket as they went through the doors of the ICU and his fingers grazed against his phone. He pulled it out and turned it back on; they’d need to call Carole and Finn with an update…

Kurt started hard when his phone began ringing in his hand. A few nurses turned mild glares on him as they passed in the hallway, but Kurt ignored them as the name on the caller ID registered. A guilty lump formed in his throat.

“Who is it?” Burt asked.

“Cooper,” Kurt choked out. Shit. He’d forgotten to call Cooper, but Blaine’s brother must’ve known something was wrong to be calling Kurt when he knew Blaine and Kurt were broken up. “I…”

“Did you call him?” Burt asked. Kurt shook his head and his father sighed. “You should probably answer it, bud.”

Kurt nodded and answered the call. “Hello?”

Kurt shut his eyes as Cooper’s frantic voice rang across the line. _“Kurt, what the hell? I’ve been calling you for an hour!”_

“Sorry,” Kurt breathed. “My… my phone’s been off.”

_“Your phone’s been off,”_ Cooper echoed in panicked disbelief.

Kurt’s stomach clenched guiltily. This was Blaine’s brother… Even if they didn’t have the same relationship Kurt and Finn had, it was obvious that Cooper still cared about Blaine, especially once they’d mended fences during Cooper’s visit the previous spring. Blaine and Cooper spoke more often now and Blaine had even visited Cooper the past summer.

“No phones in the ICU,” Kurt replied, feeling his father steadily steer him through the hallway as he kept his eyes shut.

Cooper made a choked off sound before audibly collecting himself. _“What the hell happened?”_ he demanded finally. _“I got…”_ He swallowed. _“I had a voicemail after work from Westerville Memorial saying…”_ He trailed off again. _“When I called back, they said you and your father were with him.”_ There might have been some accusation in that last bit, but Kurt couldn’t blame Cooper for that.

“My dad’s one of Blaine’s emergency contacts,” Kurt explained, opening his eyes as they walked through the waiting room and out the doors into the parking lot. Kurt’s insides twisted uncomfortably at the thought of Blaine being beaten severely in a parking lot. Again. They stopped a few feet outside the doors, the same spot Kurt had called his father from a few hours earlier.

_“Have you seen him?”_ Cooper asked quietly.

Kurt nodded, but it took a moment to remember that Cooper couldn’t see him. “Yeah.”

_“And?”_

Kurt let out a dry sob before he could stop it at the image of Blaine’s too still form that would forever be engraved in his memory. Cooper inhaled sharply on the other end. Kurt barely registered his father pulling the phone from his limp grasp, hugging his arms around his middle as his father picked up the conversation.

“Cooper? It’s Burt Hummel…”

Kurt half-listened to the one-sided conversation, trying to focus on the comforting sound of his dad’s voice and letting it lull him into a sense of safety. He wasn’t paying attention to the actual words being spoken, so he jumped when his dad handed his phone back to him, not realizing the call had ended.

“Cooper’s in Vancouver shooting some TV show,” Burt said tiredly. “He’s been trying to get a flight out, but they’re having a blizzard and nothing is going in or out.”

“A blizzard in Vancouver? In March?” Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t exactly an expert on Canadian weather patterns, but that didn’t sound seasonal.

Burt shrugged. “Global warming?” he offered and Kurt huffed a humorless laugh. Wasn’t that just their luck? “Anyway, he’s going to keep trying to get a flight out. He’ll call once he can actually leave.”

Kurt nodded. “Their parents?”

Burt ran a hand over his face. “He tried calling, but they’ve got their phones off.”

Kurt wasn’t surprised; they were on a cruise and roaming costs alone would be ridiculous. And it wasn’t like they knew that Blaine would get hurt in their absence, but they’d still left him alone for weeks on end. Kurt had never been able to imagine living in a family where that was commonplace, but it was normal for Blaine. Kurt had always been happy to be able to include Blaine in the Hummel family traditions, like Friday night dinners, whenever possible because of it. He’d caught Blaine more than once looking around the Hudson-Hummel dinner table like he couldn’t quite believe they were real.

Kurt wondered then, not for the first time, how often Blaine had been left alone in that giant house after their breakup. A shiver ran down his spine.

“So I guess we’re all he’s got for now,” Kurt said finally, something heavy settling in his stomach.

Burt nodded. “Cooper said we can stay at their place to avoid commuting between Lima and Westerville too much.”

Kurt swallowed, thinking of Blaine’s house—of Blaine’s room, of Blaine’s bed…

“Oh,” was all he could manage, a fresh wave of grief washing over him. He’d barely been able to stay in the house that afternoon when he and Blaine had been eating dinner with all the reminders of things they’d shared in that house, but to stay there when Blaine was in the hospital? It was a lot.

Burt squeezed Kurt’s shoulder in understanding. “You’ve got Finn’s car, right?” he asked, bringing Kurt’s attention back to the present.

“Yeah. He was hanging out with Puck tonight,” Kurt answered. He was feeling somehow detached, like he was watching his body answer his father’s questions while he floated a bit above the scene, untethered.

“I don’t think you should be driving right now, kiddo,” Burt said. “We’ll take my car to the Andersons’ and pick up Finn’s tomorrow.”

Kurt nodded, content to let his father make the logistical decisions while he floated. He let Burt lead him to the car, sitting down and buckling his seatbelt unthinkingly. The drive across Westerville was silent as Kurt stared out the passenger window, unseeing.

Kurt had made the drive to and from Blaine’s countless times and had seen much of Westerville while he’d been at Dalton, but they were still passing through areas mostly unfamiliar to him. But Kurt couldn’t force himself to focus.

All he could see in his mind’s eye was Blaine from that afternoon: Blaine answering the door, eyes going wide in surprise before wariness settled on his features as he let Kurt inside; Blaine feeling from the kitchen when the doorbell rang; Blaine across the table at the coffee shop, features somehow both openly curious and guarded as his fingers curled around his coffee cup; Blaine with his face buried in his hands, his whole body shaking in the wake of the confrontation; Blaine in the movie theater, shoulders slumped and eyes far away; Blaine in the doorway at Starbucks before Kurt left, a mix of emotions crossing his face that Kurt couldn’t read…

Kurt blinked and glanced around when he felt the car settle into park; they were in Blaine’s driveway. _Oh._ Burt squeezed his shoulder before getting out of the car. Kurt followed suit more slowly, following the path to the front steps.

Burt was looking around the porch when Kurt walked up. “Cooper said the spare key is—”

“Under the third brick on the second step,” Kurt filled in, bending down to remove the loose brick in the step and pull out the key. Blaine had told him where it was on more than one occasion, though Kurt had only used it twice—once when Blaine was home with flu and his parents had to work and once when he surprised Blaine when he was recovering from his eye surgery.

Burt raised an eyebrow but said nothing, simply stepping aside to let Kurt unlock the door that Blaine had locked that very evening when they’d left for coffee. Kurt tried to shove down the rising feeling of guilt again as the door swung open. He didn’t succeed.

He held the door open for his dad, shutting it behind them and locking it once more. Kurt slipped his shoes off and pulled his coat from his shoulders as Burt copied his movements. It had become habit to remove his shoes when coming to Blaine’s in the last two years; his house looked like something out of a catalog, artfully decorated but empty, and walking around in shoes felt like some kind of trespass.

Kurt took a deep breath and looked over at his father, who was peering around the foyer with mild interest. The Anderson house was in an entirely different world than the Hudson-Hummel house, and though Burt no doubt saw a lot of luxury during his time in D.C., it was always different trying to picture someone you knew living in the space. Kurt shook his head, pulling himself out of his reverie.

“I’ll, uh, show you where the guest room is,” Kurt told his dad. It didn’t seem right to sleep in one of the Andersons’ rooms, even if Cooper had given the okay, but there was no way Kurt was letting Burt sleep on the couch.

Burt followed Kurt up the stairs and down the hallway. Kurt opened the second to last door on the right and peered in. The bed looked to be made, Kurt noted in relief. He was pretty sure he was too shaky at the moment to actually make a bed. He turned the light on and stepped aside to give his dad room. Burt stepped into the doorway before turning to look back at Kurt.

“Towels are in the closet,” Kurt told him, putting an unsteady hand on the door adjacent to the guest room. “And bathroom,” he added, nodding behind him to the door across the hall. It was odd, playing host in a home that wasn’t his—that he wasn’t entirely sure he even felt welcome in anymore.

Burt nodded before studying Kurt for a long moment. Kurt tried not to fidget under his dad’s knowing gaze, but finally Burt pulled Kurt into a hug.

“Try to get some sleep, bud. We’ll go back in the morning.”

Kurt nodded into his dad’s chest, melting into the embrace. In his father’s arms, it felt like nothing could get to Kurt, and he reveled in the feeling after a night so out of control. He had no idea how long they stayed like that, but Burt didn’t move until Kurt finally pulled away. The world seemed to come crashing back down on him as he stepped back, but Kurt knew he couldn’t burden his dad any more than he already was. Tonight, he would do what he always did—deal with it on his own.

“Goodnight, Dad,” Kurt said.

“Goodnight,” Burt replied, though they both knew it was anything but.

Kurt turned back down the hallway and heard the guest room door shut behind him. He had every intention of heading downstairs to sleep on—or stare at the ceiling from—the couch, but his feet seemed to have other ideas. He suddenly found himself standing in front of the door to Blaine’s room. He hesitated, not wanting to intrude. He and Blaine might be trying to be friends, but Kurt knew that was turning out to be as hard for Blaine as it was for him.

Still, Kurt twisted the doorknob before he could talk himself out of it. He stepped inside Blaine’s room, turned on the light, and closed the door behind him. He shut his eyes, just for a moment breathing in the familiar Blaine scent that was all over the room, before turning around. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it seemed a bit anticlimactic that Blaine’s room looked mostly the same as the last time he’d been here in the fall.

Kurt inhaled sharply when he realized he hadn’t been here since Before.

At times, Kurt found himself categorizing things as Before or After—he was doing it even now that he’d forgiven Blaine and was hoping to move forward. It was a moment that had changed everything for them both.

Kurt wandered around the perimeter of the room, noticing a few new pictures—of the new New Directions and of the Warblers, Sebastian included—scattered around the room, but otherwise it seemed… unchanged. Kurt couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that came from that, so instead sat down on the edge of the bed.

He blinked hard. He and Blaine had shared their first time here, and Kurt was sitting in Blaine’s room, remembering, while Blaine was hooked up to machines fighting for his life across town.

Feeling like he’d been burned by the thought, Kurt jolted up off the bed and took several steps back, eyes wide and breath coming in short pants. Fuck. He shouldn’t be here.

Kurt bit his lip, about to flee from the room when he heard the familiar chirp of an incoming text on his phone. It was probably Finn. With a sigh, he reached into his pocket, but his phone wasn’t there. He frowned and checked his other pockets, but it wasn’t in any of them either.

His phone chirped again and he realized the sound was coming from under the bed. His phone must’ve fallen onto the floor when he’d jumped up from the bed. Swallowing, Kurt knelt by the bed and cast out blindly. His fingers came in contact with something smooth, so he grabbed it and pulled it out. But it wasn’t his phone.

Kurt’s breath hitched when he realized what it was: the framed photo of Kurt that Blaine had kept on his nightstand. Blinking back tears, Kurt studied the photo for a long moment, trying to understand what it was doing under the bed. He glanced back at Blaine’s nightstand and saw a photo of Sam with his arm wrapped around Blaine’s shoulders, pulling Blaine into his side while Blaine grinned happily. Something lurched in his chest at that.

_“I was finally moving on,”_ Blaine’s words from earlier echoed accusingly in the back of Kurt’s mind.

Clenching his jaw, Kurt reached back under the bed, but what he pulled out wasn’t his phone either. Kurt felt the tears start to fall as he studied the framed photo of him and Blaine dancing at junior prom. Kurt had his own copy in the apartment in New York; he’d pulled it out from the back of his makeshift closet last week after ending things with Adam.

Blaine said he was moving on and the frames, both with some cobwebs on them, seemed like proof of that after all. They’d been hidden for more than a few days if they were collecting dust like that.

For the longest time, Kurt had wanted nothing more than to be able to move on. He’d offered his heart to Blaine, and Blaine had broken it in a moment of weakness. It had taken months for him to heal enough to even consider putting himself out there again. He knew Blaine had been hurt when he’d found out that Kurt was seeing Adam—Tina said she’d found him in the gym at the punching bag every day the week he’d found out, pounding the bag until he’d nearly collapsed—but Kurt knew he had every right to date someone else.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, Kurt realized that he’d been pleased that Blaine wasn’t letting go. Blaine was going to fight for him, for _them_ , no matter what. It was a safety net that Kurt hadn’t been consciously aware of until this very moment—the moment he realized that net had been cut a while ago.

And now, with Blaine in the hospital ( _“…the worse his chances get…”_ ), Kurt realized with a painful lurch, that he might never get to tell Blaine that he knew now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they were meant to be together forever. That was what he’d come all the way home to tell Blaine, but he’d only managed to make a mess of everything.

“You weren’t supposed to move on,” Kurt choked out, hugging the frames to his chest. “I just want you. You can’t leave me before I get to tell you that.”

Kurt let the sobs that had been building up all night overtake him then, his fingers squeezing the framed photos like a lifeline as he drowned in his tears.


	5. Chapter 5

Burt didn’t sleep well in the Andersons’ guest room. After he and Kurt said their goodnights, Burt had called Carole to fill her in on the situation. And hearing his wife’s horrified gasp, Burt had _finally_ let himself fall apart as he described Blaine’s condition. He felt the tears falling and the intense ache in his chest as he spoke, voice cracking as he thought about how scared Blaine must’ve been, how much pain he must’ve been in. He didn’t know the full story, but he’d gotten a Cliffs Note version from that Sebastian kid when they’d gone to see Blaine.

He hadn’t known what to expect from Sebastian Smythe, but he was prepared to hate him after Kurt’s scathing indictments against him the previous year as well as his own anger for what he’d done to Blaine with that slushie. What he hadn’t anticipated was a scared kid who was clearly in over his head with a friend seriously injured.

Burt’s view had softened as Sebastian haltingly explained how he’d been on the phone with Blaine during the attack and that he’d been the one to call 9-1-1 and find Blaine in that parking lot. It seemed that, at least according to Blaine’s doctor, Sebastian had likely saved Blaine’s life (though he wasn’t out of the woods yet) by getting him help so quickly, and that counted for a lot as far as Burt was concerned.

Repeating the story to Carole had been hard, his protective instincts kicking in as he thought about how small and pale Blaine looked in that hospital bed. Blaine and Kurt might not be together at the moment, but that didn’t change the fact that Blaine was still one of his boys, mistakes and all, and Burt was going to do whatever he could for the kid.

After he’d pulled himself together again—god knew Kurt wasn’t keeping it together, so Burt would do it for both of them—he’d tried to sleep, only to fall into fitful dreams of Blaine then Kurt then both of them being attacked. He woke up in cold sweats every time and had finally given up on sleep around 7:00, deciding to take a shower—assuming Kurt hadn’t beaten him to it, anyway.

When he stepped out of the guest room, the house was silent; Kurt must still be asleep, Burt noted in relief. Kurt had a hard time sleeping (and eating) when he was stressed, and there wasn’t much more stressful than the current situation. He figured he’d shower before waking his kid, making breakfast, which would probably be nothing more than coffee for Kurt, and heading back to the hospital.

They’d have to figure cars out at some point, he considered as he grabbed a towel from the linen closet Kurt had pointed out the night before and turned on the shower; there was no reason they should have two cars in Westerville. He figured that at some point Kurt would want to get some things from the house to bring back to the Andersons’ as well. And Burt had his treatment schedule to adhere to, but at least his next appointment wasn’t for another week.

After showering and changing back into the previous day’s clothes, Burt went in search of Kurt. He assumed his son would have slept on the couch, but he heard faint music coming from behind one of the closed doors down the hallway. He paused at each door, listening, before recognizing Kurt’s ringtone coming from behind the second door on the left. He opened the door and peered inside; the ringtone was louder, though still slightly muffled as though the phone were being covered by something.

The room seemed to be a bedroom, though Kurt wasn’t on the bed. Burt opened the door wider and glanced around. Unlike the other rooms Burt had seen so far, this one actually looked lived in rather than something out of a magazine. There were some framed pictures with familiar faces in them…

_Oh._ This must be Blaine’s room.

Had Kurt…?

Burt started when he saw a foot sticking out from behind the bed. He hurried inside, stomach flying into his throat, and rounded the bed. Kurt was lying on the floor, curled up in the fetal position, hugging something to his chest.

Burt sighed in relief when he realized Kurt was just sleeping and knelt down next to his son; there were dried tear tracks on his cheeks, and Burt’s insides clenched painfully. He remembered his Elizabeth in the hospital during those last months and had desperately wanted to protect Kurt from the pain of helplessly watching someone he loved suffer. But for the second time in as many years, Kurt was doing just that.

Swallowing, Burt put a hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Kurt, hey.” Kurt groaned but otherwise didn’t move. Burt frowned; Kurt was usually a light sleeper. “Wake up, bud,” he added with a slight shake.

Kurt’s eyes flew open and he jolted upright, the objects in his arms clattering to the floor. Burt glanced at them briefly—framed photos of some sort—before locking gazes with his wide-eyed kid.

“Hey, easy.”

“Dad?” Kurt breathed. “Wha— Where…?” He blinked blearily and looked around, breath catching in his throat as he recognized where he was. His face fell as his eyes filled with tears, and he swiped a hand across his face, scrubbing vainly at the tear tracks.

“It wasn’t just a dream, was it?” he asked sadly as his eyes dropped to the discarded photos.

Only then did Burt get a good look at the frames—there was a picture of Kurt and a picture of Kurt and Blaine dancing together from Kurt’s junior prom; he knew Kurt had his own copy of the prom picture, his kid proudly wearing the prom queen regalia his peers had tried to shame him with.

Burt looked back up at Kurt, who seemed frozen. “You want to talk about it?” he asked, figuring he’d leave the _it_ open to interpretation.

Kurt shook his head. “Not really. I—” He swallowed and tried again, meeting Burt’s eyes. “I think I just want a shower and some coffee and to go back to the hospital.”

Burt bit his lip in disappointment but nodded. He knew Kurt would come to him when he was ready to talk; he had a lot to work through. “Okay. I’ll see about the coffee while you shower.”

Kurt shakily pushed himself to his feet. “Thanks, Dad,” he murmured.

Burt nodded as Kurt left the room, knowing the thanks was for more than the promise of coffee. He started when Kurt’s ringtone started up again; it sounded like it was coming from under the bed. Burt reached under and his hand curled around Kurt’s phone. He pulled it out and saw that it was Finn calling. Burt raised an eyebrow, surprised Finn would be awake this early, but he supposed Finn was friends with Blaine too; he would’ve been worried after Carole told him the news.

Burt answered the call. “Hey, Finn.”

_“Burt?”_ Finn asked in surprise. _“Why do you have Kurt’s phone?”_

“Kurt’s in the shower,” Burt replied, pulling himself up onto Blaine’s bed.

_“Oh. I tried texting him last night, but he didn’t respond.”_

Burt glanced down at the frames. “Kurt had a rough night. But I don’t think he was ignoring you on purpose.” So he assumed since Kurt’s phone had ended up under the bed rather than turned off or thrown across the room, anyway.

_“Oh. Yeah.”_ Finn cleared his throat. _“Have you heard anything else?”_

Burt shook his head, though Finn couldn’t see him. “Nothing new. We’re going back to the hospital soon.”

Finn was quiet for a moment before asking, _“Will we be able to come see him?”_

A surge of affection washed over Burt at the words. His boys had such big hearts.

“Not yet,” he said. “The ICU only lets two people in at a time, and they have to be cleared. I’m one of Blaine’s emergency contacts, so I can go in with one other person.”

_“Kurt,”_ Finn said in understanding.

“For now,” Burt agreed, deciding not to mention Sebastian. He supposed the other kid would be back, and Burt wouldn’t try to keep him out after what he’d done for Blaine. “When he wakes up,” because Burt refused to think that it might be _if_ , “they’ll move him and more people will be able to visit.”

_“Okay. I guess—”_ He sighed, suddenly sounding tired. _“I guess I should tell the others. New Directions. They’d want to know.”_

“Good idea,” Burt agreed. “Kurt and I’ll have our phones off at the hospital,” he added, thinking about the calls Kurt would start getting once the news spread, “but we’ll need to come home at some point to pick some things up.”

_“Mom’s working until 4,”_ Finn informed him.

Burt filed that information away for later. “Okay. We’ll call if anything changes.” A sudden need to reach out to his stepson hit Burt, and he added, “And Finn?”

_“Yeah, Burt?”_

“I love you, son."

_“I love you, too.”_

Burt hung up the call and sat on the bed for a moment, just staring at Kurt’s phone. Then he heard the shower shut off and he jumped to his feet. He should probably get that coffee going. But first, he picked up the frames from the floor and set them up on Blaine’s desk before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

\-----

Kurt and his dad made it back to the hospital around 8:30. The nurse who had sent them home earlier gave them knowing looks at their early return but didn’t comment, other than to tell them that there hadn’t been any change in Blaine’s condition. They returned to the spots they’d abandoned a few hours earlier on either side of Blaine’s bed, Kurt taking Blaine’s limp hand again though the other boy remained unresponsive.

The minutes stretched into hours with agonizing slowness, but Kurt was too hollowed out to care. Since he’d cried himself to sleep on Blaine’s floor, the world seemed somehow off-kilter, the colors a bit duller and the sounds muted. He hadn’t even had it in him to be embarrassed when his dad had found him looking a hot mess. A shower and coffee had made him feel marginally more human, but there was a heaviness to his limbs and heart that he couldn’t shake.

The police showed up around lunchtime, two officers—Kurt didn’t bother learning their names though they introduced themselves—looking for Kurt to corroborate Sebastian’s statement about the night before. Kurt stepped out into the hallway and a nurse took them to a quiet room where he told them, haltingly at first, that Blaine was his ex—he’d seen enough crime dramas to know exes tended to be suspects, especially after messy breakups and with them being gay in Ohio, it was a tossup for whether they’d get fair treatment—but the officers hadn’t flinched, simply making notes.

Kurt then told them about meeting Blaine at his house ( _it was about 4:30, we ordered Chinese food_ ), going for coffee ( _getting coffee was always our thing when we were together_ ) and running into Sebastian, the two guys in the coffee shop from Blaine’s old school ( _do you need me to repeat what they said? It was cruel and he was really upset_ ), the movie ( _he said he needed to get his mind off things_ ), and then getting the call from Sebastian to come back to Westerville ( _I was about halfway back home_ ).

“And when was the last time you saw Blaine?” one of the officers asked.

Kurt frowned. They’d gone to 7:00 movie, so... “About 9:30, I guess? The movie let out around 9:15, but we talked for a few minutes and I didn’t look at the clock in the car when I left Starbucks.”

The other officer nodded. “That’s fine, Kurt. Do you remember anything else about that night that might help us? Did you see anyone in the parking lot before you left?”

Kurt shut his eyes as he cast back to the night before. The details were hazy in the wake of everything else that had happened. “Um, there were a couple of other cars in the parking lot. Blaine and I were parked next to each other.” He bit his lip. “One of the street lights was out so there were a lot of shadows. But I didn’t see anyone.” He opened his eyes and shrugged helplessly. “I wish I could be more help.”

The first officer smiled. “You’re being really helpful, actually. Your story matches up with Sebastian’s as far as we can tell.”

“I can’t bear the thought of those bastards getting away with this,” Kurt said sharply, a surge of anger spiking inside his chest and catching him off-guard. It was the first emotion to break through his haze in hours.

“We take hate crimes very seriously, son,” the second officer said. Kurt raised an eyebrow but the officer shook his head. “I know not everyone feels as strongly as they should about this, but my sister has been with her partner for seven years. The thought of anyone hurting either of them…” He trailed off angrily before looking back up at Kurt, who looked back in wide-eyed surprise at the admission. “I _want_ to help Blaine.”

“We’ll do our best, son,” the first officer added.

Kurt swallowed, a lump forming in his throat, and nodded. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment; he wasn’t used to having allies who could do anything for him or someone he cared about. All those years of being bullied and no one had been able to do anything, but for someone on Blaine’s case to _want_ to catch the guys that hurt him? Well, that might take some time to process.

“Just a few more questions.”

“Okay.”

“So you live in New York?”

Kurt nodded. “I’m a student at NYADA. But my dad lives in Lima. I graduated from McKinley last year.”

“And when did you get back to Ohio?”

“Yesterday afternoon. It’s Spring Break and I—” He choked back a sudden dry sob (he swore was done crying after last night’s breakdown) before pulling himself together. “I wanted to see Blaine. To… to talk about getting back together,” he finished in a whisper.

“And what did Blaine have to say about that?”

“I never got the chance to ask him,” Kurt replied, dropping his face into his hands. “We kept getting interrupted. We had a fight right before I left and I didn’t get a chance to explain myself. He said…” Kurt swallowed and looked back up. “He said we’d talk about it today but that he needed to process everything that’d happened.”

“You had a fight?”

Kurt’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. “Oh god, does that make me a suspect? It wasn’t like that. I swear, I didn’t—”

“Kurt, it’s okay,” the second officer said quickly, cutting off what was probably going to be an impressive rant. Kurt snapped his mouth shut, his heart hammering in his chest. “We don’t think you did it. But knowing you two had a fight gives us some insight into Blaine’s mindset before it happened. We’re just trying to put the pieces together.”

Kurt forced himself to breathe, though he was still wary. “Okay.”

The first officer pulled out a couple of sheets of paper and slid them across the table to Kurt. “Do you recognize either of these men?”

Kurt’s eyes widened immediately. A detail here and there might have been off, but “Those are the guys. From Starbucks.”

The first officer nodded. “Did you happen to catch their names?”

Kurt thought back to the conversation, trying to summon the words from his memory. He knew he’d heard names at some point…

_“Shit, it is. Look at that, Nick. Blaine Anderson in the flesh after all these years.”_

Kurt pointed to the second picture. “Nick. His name was Nick. I didn’t hear a last name.”

“And this one?” the second officer asked, nodding to the other picture.

_“Back off, Roy. You are the last people I’d ever want to see again.”_

“Roy,” Kurt said, tapping the paper. “Blaine called him Roy.”

“Anything else you can tell us about them?”

_“Those were two of the guys that put me in the hospital for a week my freshman year after the Sadie Hawkins dance.”_

“They went to Westerville High a few years ago,” Kurt said, thinking back to everything Blaine had told him—which, admittedly, wasn’t much. It was a sore topic that Blaine mostly avoided bringing up.  “They and another guy attacked Blaine and another boy after a dance when Blaine was a freshman. He, uh, was hospitalized then, too.”

“That’s what Sebastian told us as well,” the first officer said with a nod.

Kurt blinked, wondering how much of that story Sebastian knew, and felt a sudden stab of jealousy that he might know more than Kurt did. It took a lot to get Blaine to open up about his past, and Kurt had always been honored to be someone Blaine shared those things with. But for Sebastian to know as well…

Kurt shook himself and tried to focus on the officers’ questions. Once they were satisfied, they rose and thanked Kurt. When the second officer shook Kurt’s hand, he gave him a quick squeeze in support and Kurt smiled wanly before they left.

As the door shut behind them, Kurt curled in on himself; he felt sick at how useless he was. Blaine could be… could be _dying_ , and the only thing Kurt could do was talk to the police and tell them things Sebastian had already told them. 

After allowing himself a few moments to wallow, Kurt took a deep breath and straightened himself. He lifted his head and plastered on the disinterested look he’d mastered during the height of the bullying in high school and wandered back to Blaine’s room, where he found his dad.

“Hey bud,” Burt said. He paused when he noticed the look on Kurt’s face. “You okay?”

Kurt sighed and leaned against the doorway, letting the façade drop in front of one of the only people who could see past it. “Not really.”

Burt nodded. “You want to grab a bite?”

The very thought of food made Kurt’s stomach turn worse than it already was, but he knew that expression on his dad’s face meant there was no getting out of it.

“All right,” he said, conceding defeat before the argument could even start. They left the hospital and drove around, finally settling on a sub shop a few blocks down the road.

Once they got their food, Kurt checked his phone. He had a bunch of texts from old and current members of New Directions—and were those Warblers?—that he couldn’t bring himself to face yet. He knew they meant well and cared about Blaine, but Finn could deal with them for now.

There was also one from Cooper that he opened: _Weather still sucks. No flights yet._

_I’m doing a sun dance,_ Kurt sent back before turning his phone off again.

“We should take the cars back home tonight,” Burt said as they picked at their sandwiches.

Kurt looked up in surprise. “What?”

“We have two cars here and only need one. And,” Burt added with a knowing look, “I’m sure you’d like to grab a change of clothes.”

Kurt grimaced, glancing down at the wrinkled clothes he’d slept on the floor in before showering and putting back on. Kurt rarely went a full day in the same outfit, so wearing the same outfit two days in a row… And getting a few of his things from the house _would_ make him feel better. “Yeah, okay. When?”

“Dinnertime? We can spend the night at home, pack a bag, and come back in the morning in one car,” Burt suggested.

Kurt nodded silently and went back to prodding his sandwich. He didn’t have much of an appetite. Eventually, Burt heaved a sigh and grabbed Kurt’s half-eaten lunch and tossed it with his own trash; there was no point in taking it since food wasn’t allowed in the ICU.

When they got back to the hospital, Kurt headed for the reception desk. He went to sign his name but paused when he saw the name that had been signed in half an hour earlier: Sebastian Smythe. Kurt groaned and signed his name before turning back to his dad.

“How did Sebastian get in? I thought it was family-only.”

Burt shrugged as he signed in. “As Blaine’s emergency contact, I cleared him to visit. Once Cooper gets here, he can revoke it if he wants, but he saved Blaine’s life, Kurt. I think he deserves to be here.”

Kurt clenched his jaw but didn’t argue. Blaine had called Sebastian the night before, after all, when he needed someone to talk to. He followed his dad down the hallway toward Blaine’s room.

Sebastian glanced up in surprise when Kurt and his dad walked in the room. He looked haggard, Kurt noticed, his blazer hanging on the back of the chair, the sleeves on his shirt rolled up to his elbows, and his tie loosened around his neck. His hair was ruffled and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be in school, kid?” Burt asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sebastian shrugged. “Skipped my last couple classes.”

Burt nodded but didn’t say anything, instead leaning against the wall by the door. Taking that as a sign, Kurt went back to what had become _his_ chair in the last twelve hours and sat down across from Sebastian.

“Did you tell the Warblers?” Kurt asked after a lingering uncomfortable silence, thinking to the texts on his phone from David, Trent, and a few other familiar numbers from his time at Dalton.

Sebastian started, like he’d forgotten there were others in the room, before looking back at Kurt. He nodded. “Yeah.”

“How’d they take it?”

Sebastian rolled his shoulders and glanced back at Blaine’s still form, an achingly familiar expression crossing his face. “About like you’d expect.”

“So, not well.”

Sebastian shook his head. “They were about ready to storm the hospital this morning, but I had to remind them that visiting was family-only in the ICU.” He shrugged. “I think they want to make up for last year when they…” Sebastian cut himself off with a grimace. “When _we_ left him in that parking garage. Nothing was the same after that.”

“Good,” Kurt said before he could stop himself.

Sebastian gave Kurt a level look but didn’t otherwise react. “They want to help,” he said wearily. “But—”

“There’s nothing they can do,” Kurt finished.

Sebastian nodded and they fell back into silence.

\-----

The drive back to Lima that night was excruciatingly long, especially since they’d gotten a late start and were making the whole trip in the dark. The further Kurt got from Westerville—and Blaine and _Sebastian_ at Blaine’s side in Kurt’s stead—the sicker he felt. He forced himself to keep his eyes on the back of his dad’s car as they drove so his gaze wouldn’t keep slipping to the phone in his front seat, which occasionally lit up with incoming texts.

When they pulled into the driveway of the Hudson-Hummel house, Kurt let out a sigh of relief. Just the sight of his home felt like a sanctuary, a port in the storm as it were. Burt waited for him as he stepped out of Finn’s car and slung an arm across Kurt’s shoulders, guiding him to the porch. The front door flung open after they’d taken a few steps; Carole was standing in the threshold, eyes wide as she looked at both of them.

She opened her arms and Kurt wordlessly launched himself at her, thankful for her motherly presence. His dad was great—better than great—but sometimes there was nothing quite like a mother’s touch, and even if Carole wasn’t his birth mother, Kurt still loved her fiercely. She held him tightly and Kurt, for a moment, just let himself breathe.

Then he gathered himself and pulled back. Carole squeezed his arms with a gentle smile before stepping aside to let him in. He heard his father say something to Carole but didn’t bother trying to make out the words. He wandered into the living room, where Finn was sitting on the couch typing something into his phone. He looked up and his face lit up slightly at Kurt’s appearance.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Kurt greeted tiredly, sitting down next to his stepbrother.

“How is he?”

Kurt shook his head. “No change.”

Finn nodded, features drooping, and turned back to his phone. He finished his text and sent it before looking back at Kurt.

“Who’s that?” Kurt asked, nodding at Finn’s phone.

“Sam. I keep telling him he doesn’t need to come back early since he couldn’t visit Blaine anyway.”

Kurt knew Blaine and Sam had gotten close over the past few months and felt a pang of guilt at the thought of Sebastian being allowed to visit Blaine but not Sam—kindhearted Sam, who’d been able to reach Blaine and pull him back from the ledge when no one else could after the breakup, according to Finn. Kurt thought of the picture now sitting on Blaine’s nightstand, of the casual touch Blaine seemed to allow with Sam and the happy smile that accompanied it, but quickly shook any jealousy off. There was nothing to be jealous of there, he scolded himself.

Kurt decided then to keep his mouth shut about Sebastian, knowing how poorly Finn and the other members of New Directions would react. But Sebastian and Blaine had apparently also gotten closer than Kurt would’ve guessed over the last few months. It wasn’t a relationship Kurt was going to be pretend to understand, but he’d seen the way Sebastian looked at Blaine that afternoon…

It was the same look Kurt knew he’d worn for months after he and Blaine had first met—the look of a guy hopelessly in love with someone who didn’t look at him the same way.

It hurt more than Kurt would like to admit, seeing it on someone else. On Sebastian, though, with all the baggage between them… It was just one more thing that Kurt didn’t know what to do with. Those seemed to be piling up over the last few days; Kurt’s head was absolutely spinning.

Instead of dwelling, though, Kurt just nodded. “Yeah. He should see his parents while he can.”

Kurt and Finn fell into silence—this one far more comfortable than the one at the hospital earlier—at that. After a few minutes, Carole and Burt walked into the living room.

“Dinner, guys? Food’s ready. We were just waiting for you to get home,” Carole said, nodding toward the dining room. No one bothered to mention that it hadn’t been dinnertime for hours. Tonight was a night to be with family.

Kurt and Finn rose—Finn more subdued than usual at the prospect of food—and followed their parents into the dining room. The meal was quiet, the sounds of silverware clinking against dishes filling the room. Kurt forced himself, not for the first time since the breakup, not to look at the spot to his right that Blaine usually occupied when he had dinner at the Hudson-Hummel house.

After dinner, Burt and Finn retired to the living room, turning the television on, while Kurt and Carole started on the dishes.

“You don’t have to wash up, sweetie,” Carole said, looking at Kurt out of the side of her eye as she dried a plate Kurt handed her. “I’m sure you’re tired.”

Kurt took a calming breath as he scrubbed another plate. “I want to help.” Cleaning always helped him focus when he was stressed—cleaning and cooking, that is, and since dinner was already done, that left the dishes. “Besides, I don’t think sleep is really on the table right now.” His sleep the night before had been restless, filled with painful dreams. He wasn’t sure he could face that a second night in a row while Blaine was fighting for his life.

“Kurt,” Carole admonished gently as she took the dripping plate from Kurt, “you need to take care of yourself, too.”

He remembered being told the same thing when his dad had been in the hospital. He was older now and had more people in his life to support him than he did back then, but it was still _hard_.

“I know, Carole. It’s not like I’m _trying_ not to. It just—”

“Doesn’t seem like a priority,” Carole finished knowingly.

Kurt nodded, relieved that she understood. “Exactly.”

Carole looked as though she wanted to respond, but Burt’s voice from the living room cut her off.

“Shit!”

Kurt nearly dropped the pan he was washing; he rarely heard his dad curse. For a blue collar guy, Burt’s language was fairly tame—probably because he’d had to tone it down for the 8-year-old son he was suddenly raising on his own. And when he _did_ curse, it was usually because he’d dropped a tool on his foot in the garage. Kurt had also heard a few well-chosen profanities during the worst of Karofsky’s bullying, but beyond that…

Kurt put the pan back into the sink and grabbed a hand towel on his way in to the living room. He stopped in the doorway as he saw what his father was reacting to in the television. He heard Carole inhale sharply as she stopped behind him.

Blaine’s yearbook photo was in the corner of the screen and video footage of the police behind crime scene tape at the Westerville Starbucks played as a reporter spoke.

“The alleged assault occurred last night around ten o’clock outside the Westerville Starbucks. Anderson is currently in critical condition at Westerville Memorial. No arrests have been made, but police are calling this a hate crime. Authorities are on the lookout for two men in conjunction with the attack and ask that anyone who has information on their whereabouts please call the Westerville P.D. immediately.”

Two sketches appeared on the screen—the same sketches the officers had shown Kurt at the hospital that afternoon. Kurt grabbed the doorway for support.

“The case has garnered interest beyond the local level, however, after Congressman Burt Hummel and his son were spotted at Westerville Memorial today,” the reporter continued. “Our sources tell us that Anderson is a family friend of the Hummels, having previously dated the Congressman’s son, Kurt. Congressman Hummel has been well-known for his gay rights advocacy in Washington.”

Kurt tuned out the rest of the words, meeting his father’s eyes across the room. Burt’s jaw had gone slack and his eyes were wide in concern.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then his phone started ringing.


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt watched in silent anticipation as his father stared at his ringing phone, mouth still open from whatever he’d been about to say, before he shook himself and snagged the offending object from the coffee table. He checked the caller ID and sighed before glancing between Finn, Kurt, and Carole.

“Stephanie,” he said by way of explanation before answering the call.

Kurt let out a breath. Of course Burt’s assistant would call in the wake of… whatever the hell this had become. Kurt had met Stephanie a handful of times; she worked with his dad while he was in D.C., helping run his office while Congress was in session. She also lived in D.C. so usually stayed there when Burt was in Ohio unless it was on official duty.

Kurt liked Stephanie well enough; she was in her mid-20s with a degree in political science. She’d bounced around doing various odd jobs after graduating; she wanted to work in politics but had been forced to wait tables to make rent. She said she’d applied to be Burt’s assistant because she admired his stance on LGBT rights—she’d had a cousin commit suicide in high school after being bullied for his sexuality and very few people in power were making the effort to do anything about these tragedies—and Burt had been sold. Kurt thought she was a little too serious at times, but he’d also only met her while she was on duty and he could only assume her job was stressful.

“Stephanie,” Burt greeted, eyes immediately screwing shut in annoyance at whatever Stephanie was saying on the other end of the line. “Yes, I saw it. I— What?”

Burt fell silent for a long stretch, and Kurt exchanged a nervous look with Carole.

“I… Okay, we’ll issue a statement then,” Burt said at last. “Hang on. I’m putting you on speaker.” He pulled the phone from his ear and clicked a few buttons before finally nodding. “Can you hear me?”

_“Yes, sir,”_ Stephanie’s tinny voice echoed through the room.

Burt turned back to his family and ran a hand over his face before speaking. “Stephanie thinks we need to release a statement to the press.”

“What kind of statement?” Carole asked, moving to sit next to her husband.

_“I recommended that we say something about the personal matter of the affair and that your family requests privacy during the trying time.”_

Kurt flinched at the reduction of Blaine being beaten and his fight for his life to a single word, _affair_ , but said nothing. The entire thing sounded so stilted and forced—the very thing Kurt hated about politics, no matter how proud he was of his father for making a difference. And while Kurt knew Stephanie was just doing her job, that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Will it help?” Carole asked.

_“Will it get you privacy? Probably not,”_ Stephanie replied matter-of-factly. _“But it at least it puts a human face to—”_

Kurt’s eyes narrowed. “Human face?” he repeated, leaving the doorway to stand next to Finn. “Blaine’s face isn’t human enough?” He thought of Blaine—bright, kind, energetic Blaine—pale and tiny in that hospital bed, his body a canvas of mottled bruises, and felt his anger boiling over.

“Kurt—” Burt started.

But Kurt shook his head. “No, Dad. How is the fact that Blaine nearly _died_ not human enough? He could still—”

Kurt’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said. The anger instantly drained from his body and he sank, boneless, onto the couch.

_Nearly died._ _Could still._ He’d thought it before now, sitting at Blaine’s bedside and listening to the beeping of the machines that were helping keep him alive. But now he’d said it out loud, which somehow made it more real. Blaine could still…

Kurt buried his face in his hands. _Oh god._

He felt a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back—Carole, probably—but couldn’t bring himself to look up. His dad had taken up the conversation again at some point, but Kurt stopped listening to the words. He was raw and shaken and he _didn’t know how to do this_. Not again, not with Blaine.

Blaine was supposed to be his constant. He’d been that from the moment they’d met and through their friendship before they’d gotten together. Even after they’d broken up, the calls and texts that Kurt had ignored had been a reminder that Blaine was still there; they’d been a painful reminder, but their absence would’ve hurt worse. And when Kurt had gotten the news about his dad’s cancer, Blaine had been his rock, missing Christmas with his own family to be there for his ex-boyfriend.

But between Blaine moving on and his uncertain prognosis, Kurt suddenly found himself adrift without the anchor he’d been taking for granted.

“Kurt, honey,” Carole said after a while, “it’s late. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

Kurt finally pulled his face from his hands to see his stepmother watching him carefully. Finn had disappeared at some point and his dad was sitting back in his armchair, having apparently finished up his phone call during Kurt’s silent freakout.

“I… What?”

Carole gave his shoulder a squeeze and smiled gently. “It’s late and you’ve had a long day. And I know you’re going to want to leave early in the morning to get back to Westerville.”

It took a moment for Carole’s words to register through the fog of guilt and worry hanging over his head. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

He glanced back at his dad, who nodded. “Get some sleep, kid.”

“You too, Dad,” Kurt replied as he pushed himself to his feet, not having it in him to argue.

Burt’s lips twitched in a smile and he nodded. “See you in the morning.”

Kurt headed off to his room and changed into his pajamas. He did an abbreviated version of his skincare routine on autopilot before crashing face-first into his bed. Sighing, Kurt turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

It took him a long time to fall asleep.

\----- 

Burt roused Kurt early the next morning. They were mostly silent as they hurried through their morning routines to get back on the road. Carole made an appearance in her bathrobe as they were taking their bags out to Burt’s car. She hugged them both tightly and said, “Call the minute something changes.”

“You got it,” Burt replied, kissing his wife.

Kurt swallowed and looked away, watching the first rays of sun peek over the tops of the neighboring houses. If they left now, they should get to Westerville around eight. He started when his father’s hand fell on his shoulder. Burt gave him a wan smile and nodded toward his car.

“You ready?”

Kurt nodded and waved at Carole once more before climbing into the passenger seat. The ride was silent, and Kurt was antsy in his seat. Once he’d actually drifted off the night before, he hadn’t slept well; the idea of the media covering the attack made something uncomfortable squirm in Kurt’s chest. He knew that getting the assholes who’d hurt Blaine’s pictures on the news could break the case open, but at the same time, this was a conservative community and there were bound to be people judging Blaine, as he lay comatose in the hospital, for simply being who he was. The last thing any of them needed was for this to be politicized.

Though it was probably too late for that.

Maybe if they ignored it, it would just go away…

But when they pulled into the Westerville Memorial parking lot, it looked as though that would be impossible. There were reporters waiting on the sidewalk. At least they wouldn’t be able to go inside and _see_ Blaine, Kurt thought morosely. Once they’d parked, Kurt shared a look with his dad, and they took off toward the entrance. When the reporters spotted them, cameras started going off, but Kurt and Burt just kept walking.

“Congressman! Any comment on Blaine Anderson?”

“Why are you here, sir? Where are his parents?”

“Congressman!”

Kurt’s stomach clenched at the mention of Blaine’s parents. Neither he nor Cooper had been able to get in touch with them, either by phone or email. At the very least, they could only hope the Andersons would check their messages the next time they got to a port, but no one knew what their itinerary was.

“Guys, this is a trying time for our family and the Andersons,” Burt said as they made their way to the doors, sounding like he was reciting something Stephanie had told him to say, which he probably was now that Kurt thought about it, “and we’d appreciate some privacy. That’s it.”

They picked up their pace after that, sighing in relief once they made it inside. They headed down the now familiar halls toward the ICU and went through the protocols of turning their phones off, washing their hands, and signing in. They were rounding the reception desk when the nurse Kurt remembered kicking them out the first night hurried up to them, eyes wide.

“Did something happen?” Burt asked immediately, noticing her expression.

The nurse nodded for them to follow her toward Blaine’s room. “It’s good news,” she assured them as they walked. They stopped outside Blaine’s door and she looked between them, breaking into a smile. “The swelling in his brain went down significantly overnight.”

Kurt’s stomach swooped. “What does that mean?” he breathed.

The nurse smiled kindly at him. “It means that he should wake up soon.”

\----- 

Kurt was still reeling from the news when he and his dad went for lunch. Blaine hadn’t looked any different than the day before, though Kurt kept checking his face for any signs of waking, but the nurse assured them that he was fighting—and winning. And those had been the best words Kurt had heard in a long time. It was early afternoon when they went down to the cafeteria to avoid any reporters that might still be outside. Once they grabbed their food and sat down, Kurt turned his phone on to call Carole and Finn. He blinked.

“I have a voicemail from Cooper,” he told his father, hitting the button to check the message.

_“Hey Kurt, it’s o’dark thirty here in Canadia, but the blizzard’s finally let up and they’re scheduling flights again. I’m on a flight into Columbus that should get in around 5:00 tonight. I’ll rent a car when I get into town and head right to the hospital. Call me if anything changes, okay?”_

Kurt saved the message and looked up at his dad. “Cooper’s got a flight. He’s getting into Columbus around 5:00.”

Burt sighed in relief. “You should call him. Tell him the news. I’ll call Carole.”

Kurt nodded and hit Cooper’s number as Burt dialed his own phone. Cooper picked up on the third ring. _“Kurt? I’m sitting on the plane right now. Did something happen?”_

“Hi to you too, Cooper,” Kurt replied as Burt started speaking quietly across the table. He tuned out his father’s voice, focusing on Blaine’s brother. “I just got your message.”

_“Oh.”_ He audibly deflated at that, and Kurt realized that Cooper must’ve been expecting bad news if he was getting a call right before he was set to leave.

_Probably should’ve led with the good news,_ Kurt thought guiltily.

_“Yeah. And Blaine?”_ Cooper asked hesitantly.

“Good news,” Kurt told him. “The swelling in his brain went down overnight. They think he should wake up in the next day or so.”

Cooper let out a long sigh of relief. _“Oh thank god.”_

“They said they won’t be able to tell the... extent of the damage until he’s awake, but they—” Kurt paused, choking up. “They’re optimistic, Cooper,” he finally managed, as much reminding himself of the doctor’s words when he’d come into the room that morning as he was telling Cooper. He didn’t think he would believe it until he _saw_ Blaine’s beautiful hazel eyes again, not when he looked so small and broken in that bed. But that wasn’t what Cooper needed to hear.

_“Thank god,”_ Cooper repeated. He took a steadying breath. _“I guess I should call our parents. In case they actually check their phones before the cruise ends.”_

Kurt nodded before remembering that Cooper couldn’t see him. “Still haven’t heard from them?”

A heavy sigh. _“No. I mean, I’m not surprised they wouldn’t have their phones on, but you’d think the ship would have internet access or something.”_

Kurt silently agreed, but he figured he should try for a show of support anyway. “Internet’s probably not cheap, if they can get a connection at all. And that’s if they even brought their computers.”

Cooper snorted. _“I’m sure my dad did. Heaven forbid the man be away from work for more than a few minutes,”_ he said bitterly before clearing his throat and reining himself in. _“Sorry, Kurt. I shouldn’t be putting our shitty family issues on you.”_

Kurt had heard Anderson family stories from Blaine’s perspective, but it was interesting to hear that Cooper had many of the same issues with their parents as his little brother.  Cooper was the golden child of the family as far as Blaine was concerned, and yet…

“It’s okay. Just keep trying, I guess?”

Cooper huffed a humorless laugh. _“Yeah, I guess. Anyway, the stewardess is giving me a dirty look. Call me if…”_

“If he wakes up, you’ll be the first to know,” Kurt agreed, feeling his pulse speed up at the thought.

_“Okay. Thanks. I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.”_

Kurt took a deep breath as he ended the call. His dad was still talking to Carole, so he started going through his text messages. He sent one off to Finn, though Carole had probably already told him, and another to Rachel with the update. He’d leave it to Finn to tell the rest of New Directions. He considered some of the texts from various Warblers but decided he wasn’t ready to open that can of worms yet.

He picked at the sad-looking sandwich he’d grabbed from the food line until his dad hung up.

“You going to eat that or just keep torturing it?” Burt asked.

Kurt rolled his eyes and took a bite, managing to swallow the dry, flavorless excuse for food. “Satisfied?”

Burt shook his head but turned back to his own food, and they ate in silence after that. There wasn’t much to say. In truth, Kurt was afraid to get his hopes up; he was terrified that Blaine would wake up, only to have lost his memory or have suffered some other kind of brain damage that the doctors would be on the lookout for. The thought of losing Blaine was terrifying, but the thought of him being physically present without any hint of who he’d been before the attack was even worse.

His meager appetite disappeared once the thought occurred to him, so he just waited for his dad to finish eating. Burt gave him a look but mercifully didn’t comment, instead just getting up to toss his trash. Kurt wordlessly followed, and they headed back to Blaine’s room.

Kurt sighed when he saw a familiar figure in the window by Blaine’s bed. _Shouldn’t he be in school or something?_ he thought irritably.

Sebastian looked up when Kurt and his father entered the room. He looked haggard like he had the day before, but there was something looser in his posture as he sat in his chair. Kurt simply nodded once at him and took up his usual seat on the other side of Blaine’s bed.

“Skipping classes again?” Burt asked from the doorway.

Sebastian started, but quickly recovered himself. “I worked ahead last night to get my assignments done.” Kurt raised an eyebrow at that, and Sebastian glanced at him. “What?”

Kurt shrugged. “I never took you for the academic type.”

Sebastian snorted. “My father is a State’s attorney, Hummel. You really think anything less than a stellar GPA would be satisfactory to him?”

Kurt exchanged a glance with his father, but Burt just shrugged. The room fell into silence after that, the beeping sounds of the machines Blaine was hooked up to echoing through the uncomfortable quiet.

“I talked to the nurse when I got here,” Sebastian said after a few minutes. “Heard the good news.” Well, that explained his more relaxed posture, Kurt supposed. But something still didn’t feel right…

“So you also know that he’s not out of the woods yet,” Kurt said, suddenly feeling the need to challenge the other boy. Even if Blaine _did_ have the brain damage the doctors were concerned about, Kurt would still be there for him. Because he loved Blaine. But Sebastian had always been after Blaine because he was gorgeous and talented. If he lost the superficial things that had attracted Sebastian in the first place, what would Sebastian do? Kurt had his suspicions.

Sebastian fixed him with a level look. “Yeah. They’re worried he might have brain damage.”

“And if he does?” Kurt pressed.

Sebastian looked at him, assessing, for a long moment before shaking his head. “Then we deal with it.”

Kurt made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat. He didn’t trust Sebastian to stay, and he didn’t want Blaine to be hurt worse by the fact that someone he considered a friend had left him when he needed him the most.

But a dark look crossed Sebastian’s face. He grabbed his blazer from the back of the chair and pushed himself to his feet sharply. He headed for the door, his movements jerky.

_He’s angry,_ Kurt realized in surprise.

 “You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?” Sebastian shook his head with a grimace. “I’ll be back.” And then he was gone.

Kurt’s mouth worked at that. Had he miscalculated? He glanced over at his dad, who was regarding him coolly.

“Want to tell me what that was about?”

“I…”

“Kurt.” There was the tone that brooked no argument.

Kurt sighed, still staring at the empty doorway. God, Blaine would’ve be pissed at him if he’d been awake to see that. “I… may have misjudged him.”

\-----

Sebastian returned a half hour later. He nodded at Burt when he walked back in but completely ignored Kurt as he settled back into the empty chair at Blaine’s side. Kurt bit his lip; he knew he should apologize, but this was _Sebastian._ The silence in the room was stifling. Finally, Burt shook his head and pushed himself up from his perch against the wall.

He nodded to Kurt. “I’m going to drop our bags off at the Andersons’.”

He inclined his head at Sebastian, who’d pulled a textbook out when he’d come back and was reading. _Apologize_ , the look said.

Kurt pursed his lips. _I don’t know._

His dad raised an eyebrow. _Kurt._

Kurt’s shoulders slumped after a long moment. _Fine._

Burt nodded and turned to the door. “I’ll be back soon. Call me if anything happens.”

Kurt nodded and, after one final look, Burt left. Kurt absently hoped those reporters had left—and that none had taken their place.

“Do you guys always do that silent ESP shit?” Sebastian asked once the door shut, eyes never leaving the book in his lap.

Kurt started. “What?”

Sebastian looked up, his features carefully neutral. “Whatever that was with your dad,” he clarified. “Just now.”

Kurt shrugged, covering his surprise that Sebastian had noticed. “Sometimes. Mostly when he’s telling me I’m being an idiot.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at that, and Kurt rubbed a hand over his face. His pride was already aching, and he hadn’t even spoken yet. “I’m sorry,” he finally managed. “I was rude. I shouldn’t have assumed anything about you and Blaine.”

Sebastian was silent for a moment, but he finally leaned forward in his chair. “You’re right, you shouldn’t have assumed.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I know what you think of me, Kurt. And honestly? I don’t care. I don’t particularly like you either.”

Kurt opened his mouth to retort, but Sebastian cut him off, picking up steam as he spoke.

“I saw Blaine in the wake of your breakup, you know? He was a _mess._ He was like a shadow of himself. The day he came back to Dalton…” Sebastian trailed off, shaking his head. “That day, I think he was at his lowest, blaming himself for your entire relationship going bad. And no one else seemed to care.”

Kurt’s stomach twisted. Those months ago, part of him had maliciously _hoped_ that every unreturned phone call or text would cause Blaine the pain it was causing him to ignore them. He’d destroyed their relationship, and Kurt had wanted him to feel what he’d screwed up.

But, months removed from the breakup, Kurt had realized that they’d been having problems long before Blaine had cheated. That had been something he’d wanted to talk about this week, now that he’d finally understood… And the thought that Sebastian had been there to offer comfort? That left a sour taste in Kurt’s mouth.

“But you know what?” Sebastian continued, pulling Kurt from his reverie. “I saw when he started building himself back up, too. I was there when he finally started opening up to people again and _healing._ I was there when he finally started moving on. I’ve seen him at his best and his worst and I haven’t gone anywhere, unlike _some_ people. So whatever you think about me, just know that _my_ caring about him is _not_ conditional.”

Kurt reeled back as though he’d been slapped. “I…”

Sebastian shook his head. “Save it, Kurt. We both know that at the end of the week you’re going back to New York to your glamorous life. But Blaine’s still going to be here. And you know who is going to be there for him? Me. And his friends at McKinley.” Kurt thought back to the picture of Sam and Blaine on Blaine’s nightstand and felt his insides twist further. “So don’t go getting all high and mighty.”

Kurt’s mind went blank as Sebastian eyed him a moment longer before turning back to his book. _He’s been wanting to say that for a while,_ he realized. And his words had hit their mark. But the worst part was that he was right—Kurt had a life waiting for him back in New York. He’d thought Sebastian would be the one to leave Blaine, but in reality it would be Kurt leaving.

Kurt bit his lip and looked back at Blaine. God, he loved that boy so much. When he’d booked his flight to Lima, Kurt had been determined to tell Blaine that he’d finally had his moment ( _Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you forever_ ) and that he knew Blaine and only Blaine was what he wanted. He was ready to make things work. But at the end of the week, no matter where they would’ve stood, Kurt would still be getting on a plane back to New York—to NYADA and _Vogue_ , to his apartment in Bushwick and Rachel, and to six hundred miles between him and Blaine.

Kurt dropped his face into his hands. Was he just being selfish again? Was he setting himself and Blaine up for more heartache? And now that Blaine needed the people who loved him more than ever, Kurt’s presence had a time limit.

Sebastian had made it clear just from his presence during the school day that he was willing to make Blaine a priority. _He really cares for Blaine,_ Kurt thought, something cold settling in his gut. Could Kurt do the same thing? Could Kurt put Blaine over everything he’d worked so hard to achieve in New York?

Wasn’t that what love was, making sacrifices for the person you cared for?

Hadn’t Blaine done that for him over and over?

Something clicked inside Kurt in that moment, and it was as though the world had shifted into sharper focus when he looked up again. He knew with absolute certainty what he had to do—no, what he was _willing_ to do for the boy he loved.

Determined, he turned back to Blaine, ready to make a silent promise. He was about to take the other boy’s hand when he froze in shock.

Familiar hazel eyes were watching him.

Kurt gasped. “Blaine?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a flashback to a past hate crime in this chapter. It's mostly non-graphic, but just a head's up that it's there.

Sebastian ran a hand over his face as he stepped out of the Westerville police department. The sun had set while he’d been inside, so he was left to descend the steps and head over to his car in the dark. He shrugged uncomfortably, rolling his shoulders to loosen stiff muscles as he unlocked his car and slipped into the driver’s seat. He pulled out his phone and checked his messages; there were a few from various Warblers asking for updates that he ignored; he’d talk to them when he got back to campus. Nothing from Kurt, though, which he assumed meant there’d been no change.

Blaine had been in and out since his first resurgence into consciousness the day before, but he had yet to recognize anyone in the few moments he was awake before going back under again. The nurses had assured them that it was normal, but they’d still been running tests as they waited for him to fully come to. It could be any time, they said.

And Sebastian wanted to be there, though the room was filled with tension whenever he and Kurt were there together, and he got the distinct impression that Blaine’s brother didn’t like him either. He had no idea if the elder Anderson knew about the slushie or not, but Sebastian wouldn’t put it past Kurt to tell him to get Cooper to kick him out after the argument they’d had the day before—after all, it was something Sebastian would’ve done the previous year.

Sebastian shook his head and sighed tiredly as he contemplated whether it was worth heading back over to the hospital for a couple of hours of tense vigil or just going back the next day. Burt Hummel, at least, didn’t seem to hate his guts—much to Kurt’s chagrin—so the room was tolerable when he was there, but he’d been around less since Cooper had arrived. Sebastian had no idea where he was going, but he found himself missing the man’s presence. He could understand why Blaine raved about him now.

Sebastian slumped back in his seat and glanced back at the shining lights of the police station. He’d been sitting in Blaine’s room with Kurt and Cooper that afternoon when the police had come by—the same ones Sebastian had given his statement to the night of the attack. Apparently they’d spoken to Kurt as well, because he’d recognized them. They’d introduced themselves to Cooper as Officers Andrews and Mendoza before asking Sebastian to come down to the station with them.

_Panic welled up in Sebastian’s chest as he looked between the two men. Was he in trouble? Did they think he’d attacked Blaine now? Oh god…_

_“You’re not in trouble, Mr. Smythe,” Andrews said quickly, apparently reading his expression. “We actually have some suspects in custody and were hoping you’d be able to identify them.”_

_Sebastian blinked, mind working overtime to register what he’d just heard._

_“You have the assholes that did this to my brother?” Cooper asked sharply._

_“Roy Matthews and Nick Hewitt are in custody,” Mendoza said. “We have Sebastian’s and Kurt’s statements corroborating that they threatened Blaine the night of the attack.”_

_“And I heard them on the phone,” Sebastian added quietly, thinking of the phone call that had been haunting his sleep since Monday night. “It was them.”_

_Andrews nodded. “We had enough evidence to arrest them,” he said. “And we received an anonymous tip that led to the arrest of a third suspect, but we need more than what we have to keep him.”_

_“We were hoping you’d be able to identify the voice of the third suspect,” Mendoza added to Sebastian. “You’re our only other witness besides Blaine.”_

_And there was no guarantee that Blaine would be able to identify his attackers when he woke up. Memory loss was common in head injuries, the nurses kept reminding them. And that was the best case scenario for Blaine once he woke up._

_Sebastian swallowed, feeling all the eyes in the room on him. He glanced over at Blaine, who slept on, before nodding. “I— Yeah.”_

_“Can you remember the third voice from the call?” Andrews asked, watching him seriously._

_Sebastian’s stomach turned. “I’ll never forget it.”_

He’d ended up meeting Andrews and Mendoza at the police department, and he’d been ushered behind a one-way mirror to check out a line-up of men. He’d heard about these types of proceedings from his father’s work, but he’d never seen it done for himself. A detached part of him found it fascinating, but mostly he’d been a sweaty mess as he waited.

Eventually they’d given each man in the line-up a line to speak—words, Sebastian realized, he must’ve told the police the third guy had said during the attack. And when the fourth man said, “Dressed like that, might not even know you were a homo if we didn’t have history,” Sebastian tensed and his breath caught in his throat. That was the voice he’d heard on the phone, the one that had barked laughter and called Blaine “fucking faggot” as he…

Nausea churned Sebastian’s stomach as he’d whispered harshly, “That’s him. That’s the third guy. I’d recognize his voice anywhere.”

There’d been some paperwork, waiting, and speaking with the officers again, and more waiting before he’d finally been allowed to leave. And while he thought he should feel better about giving evidence that could put away the bastards, he only felt tired. A heavy weight had settled on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Fucking Ohio,” he muttered as he stuck his key into the ignition with more force than necessary and turned on the car. He was getting hell out of this homophobic hellhole as soon as he possibly could.

He pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to Dalton.

\-----

The first thing he was aware of was voices. He’d been floating in the darkness, a warm embrace that was slowly letting its grip go. The voices were indistinct, but the tones were familiar; he wanted nothing more than to drift back into the arms of the darkness, content in the safety that radiated from the sounds around him.

But then there were beeps mixing in with the voices and a sharp smell that he knew from somewhere…

And then feeling slammed back into him; his head was pounding and everything else ached. It hurt to breathe _._ He groaned in protest of the sudden _sensation_ and the voices fell silent.

After a moment, he heard a high-pitched voice from somewhere above him ask, “Blaine?”

 _Blaine._ Why did that word sound so familiar? He turned toward that voice, something in the back of his mind telling him it was safe.

“Hey, can you hear us, kiddo?” a different voice asked from his other side.

He knew that voice, too. He leaned toward it in turn; he wanted to reach out, but his body felt weighted down.

“Can you open your eyes, Blaine?” the second voice asked gently.

 _Blaine._ There was that word again. He knew it meant something important…

 _Open your eyes…_ Eyes. He could do that. Slowly, he opened them, but it was suddenly too bright and he slammed them shut again with a faint whine.

“Easy there, tiger,” the second voice encouraged. “It’s okay. Just open your eyes, Blaine.”

No. He didn’t want to; he just wanted to back into the dark where it was safe, where it was warm and comfortable. Out there it was bright and sharp and everything _hurt_.

“Come on, Blaine,” the first voice whispered, almost a reverent plea.

Oh.

He opened his eyes again, carefully this time, squinting against the brightness. Everything was out of focus, a white blur surrounding him, and his ears picked up the incessant beeping again and his nose twitched at the sharp _clean_ smell. But then there was a dark figure in his eye line. He blinked a couple of times and gradually the figure came into focus.

The figure smiled widely, looking relieved. “There you are,” he breathed.

“Coop?” he asked, voice rasping. The word fell off his tongue before he knew what it meant, but the figure’s face lit up and suddenly he _knew_.

Cooper. His brother. Blaine’s brother. Because _he_ was Blaine.

“Hey, little brother,” Cooper said, teeth showing in a wide grin.

“Are you with us this time?” the first voice asked from somewhere on the other side of Blaine.

Blaine would know that voice anywhere. He turned his head, grimacing when even that small movement sapped his energy. His entire body was just so heavy…

“Kurt?” he murmured.

Kurt was half out of his chair, and a huge smile spread across his face when his eyes met Blaine’s. “Hi,” he exhaled. Blaine licked his lips and Kurt’s eyes widened. “Oh, right!” He jumped up, and Blaine tracked his movement across the room to a sink where he filled up a cup. Kurt walked back and held it to Blaine’s lips. “Water,” he said, tipping the cup.

Blaine took a tentative sip that turned greedy once the liquid spread across his tongue and down his throat. It was _heavenly._ Once he’d drained the cup, Kurt set it down on the table next to the bed. Blaine blinked, feeling life slowly coming back to him. He looked around the room then, taking in the white walls and machines that surrounded him, inhaling the scent of antiseptic.

Hospital.

He glanced down and saw his arm in a cast. He blinked in confusion. When had that happened? He assessed the other aching parts of his body, and while his head and ribs were the worst, it felt like there was something on his knee as well. But there were blankets covering his legs and he didn’t have it in him to try to move them to check.

Confused, he glanced between Kurt and Cooper, who were both watching him carefully. His brain was trying to reconcile all the pieces but coming up empty.

“W-why are you here?” he asked finally, the words feeling strange on his lips, as though he hadn’t spoken in a while. He didn’t understand… His head was still pounding and his thoughts were muddled.

“Blaine, you—” Kurt started, but Cooper cut him off with a look that Blaine couldn’t decipher.

“What do you remember?” Cooper asked, leaning toward him.

Blaine frowned and cast back into his hazy memory, as though trying to push through a curtain. He remembered saying goodbye to Sam after school on Friday because Sam was going home for Spring Break. He’d gone to brunch with Tina on Saturday and then had gone home. After that…

“I remember watching basketball on Sunday,” he said slowly. “And working on my audition piece.” He blinked a couple of times, his eyelids feeling heavier. He remembered sitting at the piano in the library, sheet music spread out in front of him. “That’s it.”

He watched curiously as Kurt’s face fell. “Blaine, it’s Thursday night,” he whispered.

Blaine’s eyes widened, weariness suddenly forgotten. “What?”

“I came home on Monday,” Kurt told him, voice wavering slightly. “I came to see you.” He swallowed. “We spent the evening together.” Cooper coughed and Kurt looked up, an unreadable expression crossing his face as he clenched his jaw and fell silent.

Blaine frowned. There was something off with Kurt’s explanation, but he couldn’t quite place it. He knew all of Kurt’s tones and facial tics and there was definitely something he wasn’t saying…

“But… why am I—” He cut himself off as a wave of pain hit him, running through his nerves like a current. His muscles tensed and it hurt just trying to take a shallow breath. Fuck. He shut his eyes and rode it out, breathing through his nose until it passed. When he opened them again, gray was seeping in around the edges of his vision. He blinked a couple of times, willing it away until he could see again, before looking back up. Cooper and Kurt were watching him in concern.

Blaine took a couple more shallow breaths, since that was all he could manage, before finishing his question. “Why the hospital?” he asked, deciding the fewer words the better. Obviously something had happened that made everything _hurt_ , that had put him in a hospital bed again, but what? What had he lost between Sunday and Thursday?

Cooper and Kurt exchanged another one of those looks that probably should have made sense but Blaine was too tired and sore to think about.

“Blaine, honey, you were…”

“You were attacked,” Cooper finished when Kurt trailed off.

The breath caught in Blaine’s throat. There was something in the back of his mind, some kind of itch at those words…

“You’ve been in and out since yesterday,” Kurt added quietly. He looked tired, Blaine thought as he studied Kurt’s face.

“Oh.” He didn’t really know what to say to that. He thought he probably _should_ have more of a reaction, but he just couldn’t muster the energy. He yawned as heaviness settled over him, pulling him back toward sleep.

“Looks like the morphine’s kicking in,” Cooper said, his voice echoing as Blaine started to drift again.

The last thing he heard before being pulled under was Kurt humming.

\----- 

Kurt groaned as he flopped face-first onto the couch in the Andersons’ living room, sinking into the cushions.

“I doubt Blaine would mind if you took his bed, Kurt,” Cooper said from the doorway. “It’s more comfortable than the couch.”

Kurt shook his head as he sat up. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in there, especially after having a breakdown on the floor in there a couple of nights before. “The couch is fine.”

Cooper shook his head but didn’t argue. He was clearly exhausted as well. “I’ll get some blankets and pillows then.”

Kurt nodded as Cooper disappeared down the hallway. His bag was in the guest room with his dad, who’d come back to the house earlier than the rest of them, but he didn’t have the energy to go up the stairs and get it. He was contemplating sleeping in the jeans and undershirt he was wearing when his father appeared. Kurt blinked in surprise when his dad put his suitcase on the floor next to the couch and dropped a couple of blankets and pillows onto the coffee table.

“Dad…”

Burt sat down and pulled Kurt into a hug. Kurt melted into the embrace, savoring the feel of his father’s safe arms before finally pulling back.

“Blaine?”

Since Blaine had woken up the first time, there had been tests and constant check-ins from the staff as Blaine’s visitors also rotated. Cooper had gotten in a couple of hours after Blaine had woken up the first time and hadn’t left his side. Sebastian had left once Cooper had arrived, and Burt had been in and out depending on how strict the nurses were being with the two-visitors-per-patient rule. Kurt had come back from the bathroom to find Cooper and his dad talking in hushed voices more than once, but his dad had just shrugged when Kurt asked what it was about and Cooper had shot him a wan grin.

And then there had been the police visit earlier in the afternoon… He supposed he should check in with Sebastian to tell him Blaine was awake and find out what had happened.

Mostly, though, they’d just kept vigil over Blaine. Burt had left around dinnertime that evening; he got tired more easily these days as a side effect of his treatments, and Cooper had volunteered to drive Kurt back later.

But then Blaine had woken up for real. He’d been tired and clearly in pain, but he’d been _Blaine_. It had been the best thing Kurt had seen in a long time.

Kurt had called his dad after leaving the hospital so he knew Blaine had regained consciousness, but he nodded anyway.

“He was awake for about five minutes before he fell asleep again. But he was aware, Dad. He was talking, asking questions.” Kurt felt tears forming in the corners of his eyes and he wiped at them surreptitiously.

His dad gave him a knowing look but nodded. “I’m real glad, Kurt.”

“He, uh, doesn’t remember what happened,” Kurt told him. “The last thing he remembers is being at home on Sunday. They said memory loss is common with head injuries, but they don’t know if he’ll get the memories back or not.”

“That might be a mercy,” Burt replied gently.

Kurt nodded absently. Part of him was desperate for Blaine to get those memories back, to remember that Kurt had come to talk to him, but another part didn’t want him to have to suffer from the memories of being attacked. Again.

“They’re going to move him from the ICU into a private room tonight,” Kurt added, pushing those thoughts from his mind.

“That’s great news,” Burt said, face lighting up.

“Yeah.”

“Did you hear from Sebastian?”

Kurt shook his head, grimacing. After their fight the day before, there’d been a lot of tension when they’d been in the same room together. Kurt knew Sebastian had made some fair points, but he’d also been an asshole about it, and Kurt just didn’t think he’d ever be able to get past how Sebastian had hurt Blaine the previous year. They would never like—or trust—each other. But Blaine cared about both of them, so they were making concessions.

“I should probably call him. It’s late, but…”

Burt inclined his head. “He’ll want to know.”

Kurt nodded. Burt gave his knee a squeeze before getting to his feet. “Call him, Kurt. Then get some sleep.”

“I will.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Dad.” He smiled at the blankets and pillows. “And thanks.”

Once the sound of his dad’s footsteps disappeared upstairs, Kurt sighed and grabbed his phone. He scrolled to Sebastian’s number. His finger hovered over it for a few moments, but finally he sighed and called.

 _“Kurt?”_ Sebastian answered on the second ring despite the late hour. _“Did something happen?”_

Kurt couldn’t help but smile as he spoke. “He woke up.”

\----- 

_“Westerville PD has just announced that they have three suspects in custody in the Blaine Anderson attack case. Witnesses were initially able to point police to Roy Matthews and Nick Hewitt of Westerville, but an anonymous tip received yesterday led authorities to arrest a third suspect._

_“Eric Mitchell, also of Westerville, was arrested Thursday afternoon. A witness identified him in a lineup as the third man who allegedly attacked the 18-year-old Anderson in the parking lot of the Westerville mall Starbucks._

_“Anderson is currently in critical but stable condition at Westerville Memorial.”_

Josh Sanders clicked the television off, slumping back into the pillows on his bed. As glad as he was to hear that the assholes had been caught—and maybe now they’d finally pay for what they’d done four years earlier as well—he still felt sick.

He’d been so shocked to see that first news report about Blaine on Tuesday. It was only by chance that he’d seen the news that night, having come home for Spring Break from Bowling Green. He’d been channel surfing in his boredom when he’d seen Blaine’s picture on the local news.

He hadn’t talked to Blaine since the night of the Sadie Hawkins dance—Josh’d had a concussion and had been fitted with a cast for a broken wrist. Otherwise, he’d just been bruised to hell and had been released that night. But Blaine had been admitted to the hospital.

Roy, Nick, and Eric had lost interest in Josh when he’d gone down after a couple of blows from a bat and crowbar, landing hard on his wrist and banging his head on the concrete. He must’ve lost consciousness because they next thing he knew, all three were focusing their attentions on Blaine. He was crying out in pain, whimpering pleas for them to stop, but the blows had just kept coming. Everything had been hazy to Josh, the world unsteady around him, and he hadn’t been able to move or even shout for them to stop.

The sounds of Blaine’s cries and the cracking of bones had haunted his nightmares for years after.  But the worst had been the moment Blaine had gone silent. There’d been a loud crack and then nothing.

Roy, Nick, and Eric had cursed before running off, not sparing a glance for their victims. Josh had wanted nothing more than to get to Blaine’s side, to call for help, but when he tried to move, the world spun around him and he’d nearly thrown up. As he was recovering from his dizziness, his dad had arrived.

Josh would later find out that his dad had called an ambulance and had ridden with Josh and Blaine to the hospital, but Josh only remembered watching Blaine, pale under all the blood and unmoving, during the ride to the hospital. The last view he’d had of his only friend at Westerville High had been him being wheeled into the emergency room.

Josh’s parents had never been happy with the idea of having a gay son, but the attack at the dance had apparently been the last straw. They’d withdrawn him from Westerville High that Monday and he was attending a Catholic school in Columbus by the end of the week. Josh always assumed his parents were just waiting for an excuse to get him into parochial school, and a gay bashing was a perfect reason to send him somewhere that would try to straighten him out.

The nuns had tried and failed, much to his parents’ dismay.

He’d also been forbidden from getting in touch with Blaine, so he’d never heard what had happened to him. He thought about Blaine occasionally, but mostly tried to put that night out of his mind and had succeeded for the most part, minus the nightmares—that is, until his senior year when he’d read an article in the _Westerville Times_ about the Dalton Academy show choir going to Regionals for the first time in a decade, complete with a picture.

And Blaine had been front and center of the group, blazer and all, giving the camera a polite smile. He’d looked healed for the most part.

Josh wasn’t surprised that Blaine had ended up at Dalton; his family was well off and Dalton had a zero tolerance bullying policy that Josh had wanted to escape behind more than once during his time at Westerville. But his parents couldn’t afford the tuition.

No, he was more surprised to see that Blaine was referred to as a sophomore in the article. He’d only been a year behind Josh at Westerville High. When he realized that Blaine must’ve had to repeat a year because of the dance, Josh had felt sick all over again. But after school he’d looked up Blaine on Facebook and found an active profile filled with friends from Dalton and a lot of posts from a boy named Kurt in particular.

 _Boyfriend?_ Josh had wondered. He hoped so; Blaine was a good guy and if anyone deserved to find happiness in the wake of what they’d been through, it was him. He’d checked up on him every now and then, when a phantom pain would run through his wrist, and other boy had mostly seemed happy, and that had given Josh the peace of mind to move on as well.

But that news report, complete with sketches of two of the faces that had haunted his nightmares, had sent Josh back to a parking lot his sophomore year of high school. Shaken, he almost hadn’t heard the reporters add that they were looking for a third attacker in the case. But he’d _known._ He’d ended up on his knees in front of the toilet, dry heaving when the report had finished, memories coming back in full force.

He’d debated with himself for the next day and a half whether to get involved or not. He knew his parents would want him to have nothing to do with the case—they’d blamed Blaine for the attack since he’d asked Josh to the dance in the first place—but after seeing a newspaper article about the attack on Wednesday, complete with Blaine’s senior picture, he’d given in.

In a compromise, he’d called Westerville PD with an anonymous tip about Eric Matthews, sharing that he’d been the third member of the gang the first time Blaine had been attacked before hanging up.

With a heavy sigh, Josh grabbed his laptop to check the visiting hours for Westerville Memorial.


	8. Chapter 8

Blaine’s eyes flew open as he jolted out of his sleep, terror pulsing through his veins. His ribs ached in protest as he gasped for breath. His heart was pounding, and he couldn’t get enough oxygen in his lungs. His instincts were pushing him to run, but every nerve screamed when he tried to move. He wrapped an arm around his chest and shut his eyes again, sinking back in defeat as he rode out the pain.  
  
“You all right, sweetie?”  
  
Blaine started at the sudden voice, wincing at the jarring movement. Breathing through his nose, Blaine opened his eyes to see a woman he didn’t recognize in scrubs standing at his bedside, some kind of clipboard in hand. He frowned in confusion, panic rising in his gut again as gray edged in on the corners of his vision, but then he glanced around the dim room with curtains pulled shut and chairs and beeping machines…  
  
 _Oh, right_. He was in the hospital. Not whenever he had been.  
  
He looked back at the woman—nurse, his brain supplied—and nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped. If he was in a hospital bed, that sense of dread that was finally receding could only have come from a “Nightmare.”  
  
The nurse’s expression softened. “Do you want to talk about it? After a traumatic event, the brain sometimes sorts through the memories subconsciously as a defense mechanism. Through dreams.”  
  
Blaine bit his lip, the words  _traumatic event_  echoing in his ears. He’d been hearing phrases like that in the brief moments he’d been awake since finding Cooper and Kurt in his room— _“You were attacked.”_ —but he couldn’t  _remember_  it. He could still remember that night outside of the Westerville High gym at his first Sadie Hawkins dance, could still hear the sound of his breaking bones and smell his own blood, but this…  
  
He was drawing a blank.  
  
Everything since sitting at the piano to work on his audition piece for NYADA was just gone, as though it had never happened.  
  
As though it didn’t matter.  
  
Hell, he couldn’t even remember what he’d just been dreaming about. All he had left was a feeling of pure terror and a racing pulse, and even those were fading as his hospital room—the one he’d been moved into a few hours earlier—came into clearer focus. He had no way of telling if that had to do with whatever had happened either. Maybe it was a dream about Sadie Hawkins…  
  
The more he thought about it, the less he was sure he even  _wanted_  to remember.  
  
Blaine shook his head at the nurse, who was still watching him. “I don’t remember it. The nightmare.”  
  
The nurse gave him an understanding nod and flipped his chart closed. “It’s okay,” she assured him. “Do you need anything before I go back out on rounds?”  
  
“No. Thank you.”  
  
“I’ll let you rest then,” she said, heading out the door and shutting it behind her.  
  
Blaine sighed and stared up at the ceiling. His entire body ached as he listened to the beeping machines and waited for the next dose of morphine to pull him under again.

\-----

  
Kurt, his dad, and Cooper were sitting around Blaine’s bed when the police returned. It was around noon and Blaine had been awake for about ten minutes when Officers Andrews and Mendoza walked in.  
  
“Sorry to interrupt,” Mendoza said, looking around the room, nodding at each man.  
  
“It’s good to see you awake, Blaine,” Andrews added. When Blaine frowned in confusion, the officer smiled. “I’m Officer Andrews. This is my partner, Officer Mendoza. We’re working your case,” he explained.  
  
It visibly took Blaine a moment to register what that meant; Kurt knew that despite his injuries and being in the hospital, Blaine was having a hard time connecting with the idea that he’d actually been attacked. Kurt couldn’t imagine what it must be like to lose time like that, to have people around who remembered being with him when he couldn’t, so he wasn’t surprised that Blaine was struggling. Kurt doubted he’d be doing much better in Blaine’s place.  
  
Blaine’d been a bit out of it when he’d woken up, but Kurt just attributed it to the pain killers, especially since he was slowly becoming more coherent the longer he stayed awake. When it came to medication, Blaine always had been a lightweight—Nyquil knocked him out hard, which Kurt supposed shouldn’t have surprised him since Blaine couldn’t hold his alcohol either.  
  
“Oh,” was all Blaine managed to reply. He looked down and started picking at the blanket covering his lower half with his good hand.  
  
“Did something happen?” Burt asked, leaning forward in his chair. Kurt had shared what Sebastian had told him about identifying their third suspect the night before, but beyond that, they were in the dark about the investigation.  
  
Mendoza shook his head. “We’re just here for Blaine’s statement.”  
  
Kurt froze before glancing at Blaine, who’d paused in his imaginary lint picking, though his head was still lowered. Oh, this wouldn’t be good.  
  
“Don’t our parents need to be here for you to speak with him?” Cooper demanded, glancing between Blaine and the officers. Obviously he’d had the same thought.  
  
Andrews shook his head. “He’s 18, so no.”  
  
“Then can’t it wait?”  
  
“Unfortunately, no,” Andrews replied. He at least sounded apologetic.  
  
“Blaine, we want to get the people that did this to you,” Mendoza said gently. “But to do that, we need to know what you remember about that night.”  
  
Blaine’s breath hitched and his hand tightened in the blanket, knuckles turning white. “I…”  
  
“Anything you can tell us, no matter how small, will be helpful.”  
  
“You haven’t talked to the nurses, have you?” Cooper said, eyeing the officers coolly.  
  
“They called to tell us Blaine was awake,” Andrews replied, giving Cooper a curios look. “That was it.”  
  
“You should know—” Cooper started, but Blaine cut him off.  
  
“I don’t remember.”  
  
Kurt ached to hear the frustration and defeat in Blaine’s weak voice. He reached out and took Blaine’s hand in his own and squeezed it in support. After a moment, Blaine squeezed back, though he still didn’t look up.  
  
“Nothing?” Mendoza pressed.  
  
Blaine shook his head. “Nothing after Sunday evening. I’m sorry.” The last words were barely a whisper.  
  
“That’s okay, Blaine,” Andrews said quickly. “We have enough evidence to charge our suspects without your statement.”  
  
“Suspects?” Blaine asked sharply, finally raising his head. There was a look on his face that Kurt wasn’t entirely sure how to read. Blaine eyed the officers warily. “You know who did this?”  
  
“Do you recognize any of these men?” Mendoza asked instead of answering directly, pulling out three photos from a folder and putting them on the bed in front of Blaine.  
  
Blaine looked at the pictures for a brief moment before he stiffened and his face drained of color. “Roy Matthews. Nick Hewitt. Eric Mitchell,” he said, shakily pointing to each picture with his splinted fingers. He looked up and glanced between the officers. “Them?” he asked in a strained whisper.  
  
“We have a witness who identified them, yes,” Mendoza told him.  
  
 _Sebastian_. If Blaine hadn’t called Sebastian that night, there would be no evidence to pin Blaine’s attack on the three men that had brutally beaten Blaine not once, but twice now. He might loathe the other boy, but Kurt would always be grateful that Blaine had called him and that he’d stayed on the line. Not that he’d ever tell Sebastian that.  
  
“How do you know them?” Andrews asked, pulling a notebook out of a pocket and flipping it to a clean page.  
  
“They, uh…” Blaine swallowed and Kurt squeezed his good hand again. Blaine took a deep breath before speaking again. “Freshman year. They attacked me. And another boy,” he explained haltingly.  
  
Andrews was taking notes as Blaine spoke. Kurt frowned, wondering what good it did, hearing about a four year old attack.  
  
“Do you know why they attacked you and your friend, Blaine?”  
  
Blaine opened his mouth but shut it again, glancing nervously between the police. Finally he glanced at Kurt, who knew immediately what he was worried about. He’d been worried about the same thing when he’d first met the officers.  
  
“It’s okay, Blaine,” Kurt said quietly, remembering the look on Andrews face as he’d talked about his sister. “They just want to help.”  
  
Blaine searched Kurt’s face for a long moment before sighing and looking back at the officers. “I took him to a Sadie Hawkins dance. They,” he said, nodding toward the photos, “didn’t like it.”  
  
“And what is this other boy’s name?” Mendoza asked without missing a beat.  
  
“Josh. Josh Sanders.” Blaine seemed thoughtful for a moment, and Kurt wondered not for the first time about this other boy. There was no jealousy, just simple curiosity. “He was a sophomore and the only other out guy in school.”  
  
“What happened after the dance?”  
  
Blaine looked like he was going to be sick at the question, and he screwed his eyes shut. Kurt knew those memories had eaten Blaine alive for a long time; he rarely spoke about them, but their impact was ever-present. Kurt could still picture Blaine across from him at Breadstix, telling him, “These three guys, they beat the living crap out of us” like it had cost him something precious. Kurt’s stomach sank and he opened his mouth to say something, but Cooper beat him to it.  
  
“Are these questions really necessary?” Blaine’s brother demanded. “Are they really going to help with  _this_  case?”  
  
“Yes. It will give us more to go on,” Andrews said firmly, though not unkindly. “ _And_  the statute of limitations on a hate crime hasn’t run out if it’s only been four years.”  
  
Kurt inhaled sharply.  
  
Cooper’s eyes widened. “You mean—”  
  
“You can charge the bastards for the last attack as well as this one?” Burt said, speaking for the first time since the officers had entered the room.  
  
Mendoza nodded. “That’s what we’re hoping.”  
  
“They’ll go away for a long time,” Andrews added, looking directly at Blaine.  
  
Blaine’s glassy eyes were wide and his mouth agape, as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Our… Back then, our lawyer said there wasn’t enough evidence. To press charges,” he said quietly.  
  
Cooper’s hands tightened around the arm rests on his chair. He was visibly seething—and something loosened in Kurt’s chest; seeing the protective older brother side of Cooper was somehow a relief.  
  
“That son of a bitch told you that?” Cooper nearly growled.  
  
Blaine shrugged, wincing as he jarred his ribs. He avoided everyone’s gaze as he slumped back into his pillows, looking suddenly exhausted—and not just physically. His eyes drooped shut as he spoke, his voice hoarse.  
  
“There weren’t any witnesses but me and Josh. It was the word of two gay kids against three varsity football players.”  _In homophobic Westerville, Ohio,_  was left unspoken on the air.  
  
Kurt felt his blood boil at the words—and the small voice they’d come out in—as he couldn’t help but picture a 13-year-old Blaine, even smaller than he was now, lying broken in a hospital bed and being told that he couldn’t do anything about the men that had nearly killed him just for being who he was. He’d essentially been told that he wasn’t worth the legal protection that a straight person was. God. He must’ve felt so powerless.  
  
“Blaine,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over the back of Blaine’s hand.  
  
“Kid,” Burt added at the same time. Kurt glanced at his father and shared a sad look before turning back to Blaine.  
  
“We’re going to try to change that,” Andrews said. “And the more you can tell us, Blaine, the better our chances of getting the charges to stick.”  
  
Blaine was silent for a long moment—long enough that Kurt thought he might have fallen asleep again—but finally he nodded. “Okay,” he breathed. “What do you need to know?”  
  
For the next half hour, Blaine told the story of the night of Sadie Hawkins in as much detail as he could remember. Kurt felt sick as Blaine haltingly described Eric jumping him while Roy and Nick focused on Josh, until Josh went down, so they turned on Blaine. In a detached voice, Blaine described being kicked and hit with a crowbar and having slurs hurled at him while he begged them to stop.  
  
Blaine’s breath hitched as he talked about the pain and the certainty that he was going to die before he lost consciousness. He swallowed as he described waking up in the hospital two days later and never finding out what happened to Josh, other than his transfer to another school. And he concluded with how he went through rehab for long enough that by the time he transferred to Dalton that spring, it was too late for him to get credit for his freshman year, forcing him to repeat the grade.  
  
As Blaine finished speaking, Kurt realized there were tears falling down his own cheeks. He’d never heard this much of the story; he’d tried imagining the details, of course, after Blaine had told him the bare bone basics, but the reality seemed so much worse—worse because it was real. And he couldn’t believe that Blaine had kept so much of it to himself all this time. He wiped at his cheeks surreptitiously, but his dad gave him a knowing look.  
  
By the time the officers had thanked Blaine and left him with their cards in case he remembered anything, Blaine looked completely hollowed out. That he’d stayed awake this long was amazing in itself, but combined with the pain of his injuries and the emotional wounds the story had reopened, it practically seemed like a miracle. But Kurt also knew that Blaine could be stubborn; he’d obviously just wanted to get it over with.  
  
“Blaine, are you—” Cooper started, but Blaine shook his head tiredly.  
  
“I just need some sleep, Coop,” he murmured.  
  
“Okay, bro.”  
  
Blaine’s eyes slid shut and his breathing evened out within seconds. The room fell into a tense silence, Blaine’s story hanging over them like a storm cloud.  
  
“I knew what had happened,” Cooper said after a while.  
  
Kurt started at the words, pulling his eyes from his sleeping ex to look at Cooper. He looked wrecked as he watched his little brother sleep.  
  
“But?” Kurt prompted when no other words seemed forthcoming.  
  
“I wasn’t there,” Cooper replied, running a hand through his hair. “I left home at 18. Blaine was only 8 and I was off to L.A. to get my ‘big break,’” he said, adding air quotes. He snorted at himself. “God. Worst phone call of my life, my parents telling me that my brother’s in a coma and they didn’t know if he was going to wake up because some assholes had nearly beaten him to death.”  
  
“Did you know then? That he was gay?” Kurt clarified when Cooper looked up at him.  
  
Cooper studied Kurt for a moment before turning back to Blaine. “Yeah. He came out to me before our parents. I’d come home for Memorial Day that summer. He was so scared that he babbled on and on before finally just spitting it out. ‘I’m gay, Coop.’ I told him I didn’t care—just as long as he found someone to treat him right.” He sighed. “I wasn’t there when he told our parents, though.” He shook his head, shoulders drooping. “Just another regret on a long list of ‘em.”  
  
Kurt was taken aback at how serious Cooper was being in the moment, having been used to the older man being far more energetic and, well, ridiculous. But family tragedy tended to bring out seriousness in even the most over-the-top people.  
  
“I think you did more good than you realize,” Burt said quietly. Kurt looked over at his dad in surprise, but Burt just kept speaking. “Kid probably wouldn’t’ve come out to your parents at all if you hadn’t made him feel like he could.”  
  
Cooper seemed startled by the words. “I—”  
  
“Give yourself some credit,” Burt finished with a nod at Cooper before pushing himself to his feet. “I’m starved. Gonna hit the cafeteria. Anyone want to join?”  
  
Kurt nodded, slipping his hand from Blaine’s limp grasp. “I’ll come. Someone has to keep an eye on your food selection.” Burt rolled his eyes fondly but didn’t argue.  
  
“Maybe in a while,” Cooper said absently, already looking back at Blaine.  
  
Burt threw an arm around Kurt’s shoulders as they left the room, leaving Cooper with his brother. They were a few steps down the hallway when Kurt brought them to a halt. Burt raised an eyebrow in a silent question, but Kurt just threw his arms around his father, feeling the sudden need to show his dad how much he appreciated the things he’d said back in Blaine’s room. Kurt seriously had the best dad ever.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“For what?” Burt sounded pleased, if a bit nonplussed.  
  
Kurt smiled as he pulled back. “For all of that. For just… being you. Thank you.”  
  
“Anytime?”  
  
Kurt shook his head but was still smiling as they started walking to the cafeteria again.

\-----

  
Sebastian took a deep breath as he walked down the halls of the hospital, following the nurse’s directions to Blaine’s new room. He’d wanted to come earlier, especially since it was the last day before Spring Break, but he’d had to stay after school to talk with some of his teachers about the class he’d missed while visiting Blaine at the hospital as well as turn in the work he’d done in his absence. He’d also dropped by the library to promise the Warblers an update once he’d seen for himself that Blaine was awake and responsive; Kurt telling him was one thing, but seeing it was quite another.  
  
He paused outside of the door with Blaine’s name on it and took a deep breath, shoving down memories of the phone call, of finding Blaine’s beaten body in the parking lot, of waiting to hear whether Blaine would  _live_. No. Blaine was awake and he was going to be okay. Kurt had said he had lost his memories of the day of the attack, and Sebastian wasn’t going to dwell when Blaine himself couldn’t.  
  
He squared his shoulders and knocked on the door. Without waiting for a reply, he opened it and stepped inside. He peripherally noticed that Kurt, Cooper, and Kurt’s father were present in chairs scattered around the room, but his eyes immediately went to the figure in the bed.  
  
Blaine still looked tiny, but there were fewer machines hooked up to him, so he didn’t seem completely dwarfed anymore. He’d regained some color and his visible bruises looked like they’d begun fading.  
  
But, most importantly, his eyes were open. He’d been saying something quietly to Cooper when he’d turned to see who his visitor was. Blaine smiled when his gaze locked on Sebastian’s; he looked tired, with slightly gazed eyes from the pain meds, but happy to see Sebastian. Relief flooded through Sebastian at the sight and all the tension he’d been carrying that week seemed to drain from him at once, nearly taking his knees out from under him.  
  
“Sebastian,” Blaine greeted. His voice was low and slightly rough, as though he didn’t have the energy to give it any more power, but Sebastian heard him loud and clear. He couldn’t remember hearing anything sweeter.  
  
Cooper shifted in his seat, leaning back and crossing his arms, but remained silent. Why Cooper didn’t approve of him but was fine with Blaine’s ex being in the room was a mystery to Sebastian, but he let it go. Burt, who’d looked up over a magazine, returned to it, though Sebastian doubted the man was actually reading  _Good Housekeeping_.  
  
“Hey Killer,” Sebastian replied, shutting the door behind him once he was sure his legs would work and walking over to Blaine’s bedside, all while ignoring Kurt’s disapproving look. “Welcome back.”  
  
Blaine’s smile briefly faltered, and Sebastian mentally kicked himself. What had he said?  
  
“Good to be back. I guess.” Blaine shook his head, the movement tight, as a pained look crossed his face. “I guess I saw you before  _this_?” he asked after a moment, gesturing at himself with his splinted hand.  
  
Sebastian grimaced. While Blaine didn’t remember, Sebastian was certain he’d never be able forget anything about that night. “Yeah. We ran into each other at Starbucks Monday evening.”  
  
“That’s what Kurt said.” Blaine’s look seemed to be asking for Sebastian to elaborate on what had happened. Were the others not filling in the gaps for him?  
  
Sebastian glanced at Kurt, who gave him a level stare, before shrugging. “Kurt here wasn’t real happy that we’ve been playing nice since he left, but you told him to get over it.”  
  
Kurt huffed but Sebastian just smirked, and Blaine let out a weak laugh. “Yeah?”  
  
“Basically,” Kurt said with a sigh.  
  
Blaine’s lips quirked up in a smile, and Sebastian counted that as a win. Even Kurt didn’t seem inclined to continue the argument when Blaine looked happy. Sebastian knew how he felt; he’d do anything to keep that look on Blaine’s face—especially when, for most of the week, he wasn’t sure he’d ever see it again.  
  
“Actually,” Sebastian added, getting to the goal of his visit, which would hopefully put a bigger smile on Blaine’s face, “I also invited you to a pre-Spring Break Warbler party tonight.”  
  
Blaine frowned. “Oh. I’m sorry—”  
  
Sebastian waved him off before he could finish that thought; this was supposed to be a good surprise. “The guys really want to see you so were hoping to bring the party to you.”  
  
Blaine’s eyes lit up, but Kurt frowned. “Is that a good idea?”  
  
Sebastian knew Kurt was still sore over the Warblers’ treatment of him and Blaine the previous year. While the group had reached out to Blaine after his injury, no one had really made the same effort for Kurt even though he’d also been a Warbler. It was probably petty, but there were also some hard feelings on the Warbler end toward Kurt and the hooks he’d gotten into Blaine, but Sebastian didn’t think this was the time to bring it up. Besides, this wasn’t about Kurt and what he wanted.  
  
“Visiting hours end at eight,” Cooper pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “And you’d have to keep it down.”  
  
Blaine rolled his eyes. “That’s rich, coming from you, Coop.”  
  
Cooper’s jaw dropped in mock indignation. “Blainey. You wound me.”  
  
“I don’t know if the nursing staff would go for that,” Burt pointed out quietly as the brothers bantered good-naturedly. The words between the Andersons were quiet, since Blaine didn’t seem to have much energy, but the fond tone was apparent.  
  
Sebastian turned to Kurt’s father. “It would only be a few of us—me and the guys who were with Blaine when he was at Dalton. The seniors,” he explained. “And we wouldn’t stay too long.”  
  
Burt considered him a moment before nodding. “I suppose Cooper and I could head home early for the night, give you boys some time.”  
  
“Dad—” Kurt began to protest.  
  
But Burt shook his head. “Did you see Blaine’s face, Kurt? He wants to see them.”  
  
The fight seemed to drain out of Kurt at that. “Fine.”  
  
“Great!” Sebastian said with more enthusiasm than the decision probably deserved, but it gained him Blaine’s attention and a dirty look from Kurt. “I’ll bring a few of the guys over around six?”  
  
Blaine’s smile widened. “Can’t wait.”  
  
Kurt glanced at Blaine’s expression and wisely, Sebastian thought, didn’t say anything. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll make sure Sebastian gets out all right. We’re in a new part of the hospital and all.”  
  
Blaine yawned and nodded. “See you in f’w hours,” he said, words beginning to slur slightly. New dose of medication?  
  
“Yeah,” Sebastian agreed as Kurt ushered him out of the room.  
  
When the door shut behind them, Kurt rounded on him. “Look, Sebastian,” he said, voice low so it wouldn’t carry through the door, “I know Blaine wants to see the Warblers. And I know you guys have been mending fences. Blaine is obviously more forgiving than I am. But we need to be thinking about what’s best for his recovery.”  
  
“Oh?” Sebastian countered, crossing his arms against his chest and raising a skeptical eyebrow. “And what’s that, Hummel?”  
  
“Surrounding him with people who actually care about  _him_.”  
  
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “Are we really going to have this conversation again?”  
  
Kurt shook his head and dropped his hands to his sides. “For reasons I’ll never understand, he cares about you. And you…” Kurt trailed off but then shook his head. “I believe you, okay? But honestly? The only other Warbler I’d trust near Blaine right now is Wes, and he’s in California.”  
  
“Look Kurt, whatever issues you personally have with the Warblers, don’t you think it’s time to set them aside for Blaine’s sake?” Sebastian retorted.  
  
He thought back to the worried faces that met him at his dorm each time he came back from the hospital, asking for updates; to the text messages he’d been getting—and the ones the guys said Kurt had been ignoring—about Blaine; and to the relief that had been palpable in the library when he’d told the group that Blaine was awake. It was all genuine; they truly cared about him, show choir rivalries aside.  
  
“Believe it or not,” he continued coolly, “they’ve been insanely worried about him all week. I could barely keep them from storming the hospital to find out how he was doing. And you  _know_  it’ll make him happy. Don’t you want to do anything to make him happy, especially right now?”  
  
Kurt’s mouth worked wordlessly for a moment before he rubbed a hand over his face. “Fine. But just remember he’s been sleeping more than he’s awake, with the head injury and the pain meds. He’s already pushed himself today, so there’s a good chance he’ll fall asleep ten minutes in.”  
  
“Then we’ll leave,” Sebastian replied with a shrug. “They just want to see him and let him know that they’re thinking about him. Don’t his McKinley friends want to do the same thing?”  
  
Kurt deflated. “Fine,” he repeated.  
  
“If it makes you feel better, Hummel, we won’t mind if you play chaperone,” Sebastian added with a wink before heading down the hallway.  
  
“You’re an ass, you know that?” Kurt called after him.  
  
Sebastian just waved without looking back. He had two hours to round up some Warblers and plan some kind of hospital-appropriate surprise. And if it pissed Kurt off and made Blaine smile—not necessarily in that order—all the better.


	9. Chapter 9

Burt and Cooper left at a quarter until six after making Kurt promise not to let Blaine push himself too hard with his Dalton friends; he’d already pushed himself talking to the police, and any extra exertion was likely to push back his recovery. If it were up to Kurt, he would’ve let Blaine sleep on and hoped that the other boys would just leave.

But it wasn’t up to him—and damn Sebastian for knowing just how to push that button; once Blaine had been on board with the idea, no one was going to refuse him—so Kurt woke Blaine up at five till; the other boy wanted to be moderately coherent when the Warblers arrived. It took Blaine a while to shake off the bleariness from medication-induced sleep even at the best of times, and the morphine was really doing a number on him.  
  
Though considering the extent of his injuries, that was probably for the best.  
  
There was a knock on the door promptly at six, and Blaine, who was slowly coming out of his grogginess, perked up when Sebastian entered, followed in by David, Thad, Trent, Jeff, and Nick. They were all out of their blazers, but that didn’t stop Kurt’s hackles from rising as the door shut behind them. He didn’t think he’d ever shake the memory of those same boys walking away while Blaine was crying out in pain on the ground of a parking garage.  
  
And Blaine hadn’t even been their intended target.  
  
“Hey Killer,” Sebastian greeted, interrupting Kurt’s reverie. “Bringing the party to you, as promised.” He glanced toward Kurt, obviously amused at his presence. “Kurt.”  
  
Kurt pursed his lips, thinking of Sebastian’s smirk in the hallway earlier, but said nothing. Instead, he scooted his chair closer to Blaine’s bed. Sebastian rolled his eyes and moved aside so the other Warblers could step further inside the room.  
  
There was a brief moment when shocked silence descended over the Warblers as they took in Blaine’s small, battered form—the cast, the bruises, the bandages, Blaine’s pallor. It was obvious hearing about Blaine’s injuries hadn’t prepared them for  _seeing_  them, which Kurt could sympathize with, but the moment was quickly broken.  
  
“Hey Blaine!” David said, smiling widely as he stepped up next to Sebastian.  
  
“It’s good to see you,” Thad added.  
  
“You look good,” Trent said hesitantly.  
  
Blaine laughed quietly, wincing as his ribs probably ached. “No I don’t.”  
  
“You look alive,” Sebastian pointed out, a haunted look crossing his face so quickly that Kurt might’ve thought he’d imagined it had he not seen Sebastian at the hospital the night Blaine had been attacked.  
  
Blaine’s expression fell and his gaze dropped. “Yeah.”  
  
The Warblers exchanged nervous looks as the mood in the room turned somber. Kurt was debating whether or not to break in and spare them or let them stew in their juices for a bit longer when Nick broke the silence.  
  
“Well, this wouldn’t be a Warbler party without a bit of singing, would it?” he asked with a mischievous look.  
  
Blaine looked up and glanced between the Warblers curiously. “What?”  
  
“You know party rules, Warbler Blaine,” David teased.  
  
And then they started humming. After a few introductory bars, the group started singing:  
  
 _Don’t worry about a thing,  
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.  
Singin’, “Don’t worry about a thing,  
“‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right!”_  
  
Blaine’s eyes widened momentarily, but a surprised grin spread across his face as they kept going. Sebastian took over the next verse.  
  
 _Rise up this mornin’,  
Smiled with the risin’ sun,  
Three little birds  
Pitch by my doorstep  
Singin’ sweet songs  
Of melodies pure and true,  
Sayin’, (“This is my message to you-ou-ou”)_  
  
Blaine laughed, his good arm wrapped gently around his midsection in support, as Sebastian and the other Warblers started dancing around the room, trading off lines. One by one, they came over to the bed and clapped Blaine gently on his good shoulder. Kurt was pretty sure he saw Blaine’s bottom lip trembling as Jeff stepped back into the casual formation so they could finish the song.  
  
 _Singin': "Don't worry about a thing, oh no!  
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!”_  
  
Blaine hiccupped a final laugh when the hums faded into silence and applauded the best he could with one arm in a cast and the other hand with splinted fingers. Despite his lingering grudge, Kurt found himself applauding as well, though more for the happy look they’d put on Blaine’s face than anything.  
  
“Bob Marley, guys? Really?” Blaine asked, amused.  
  
“Shut up, you love it,” Jeff retorted with a smirk.  
  
“I do,” Blaine agreed softly.  
  
A feeling Kurt couldn’t quite describe settled over the group at that—a measure of understanding passing between the Dalton boys, past and present, Kurt supposed. He felt suddenly like an outsider, intruding on something special that only true Dalton boys could understand. Because, Kurt knew, the blazer had never fit him the way it had Blaine.  
  
Oh, Kurt owed a lot to his brief time at Dalton—he’d found sanctuary, found himself again, and even found love in those precious months—but he’d never  _belonged_ ; McKinley had always been his home, so when the opportunity presented itself to transfer back, his only hesitation had been leaving Blaine behind.  
  
The moment passed and Sebastian moved to take one of the free chairs. The other five made to fight for the three remaining chairs. Trent commandeered one of the chairs in a surprising show of quickness. Nick ended up in the second chair with Jeff perched in his lap, and David won the game of musical chairs for the last one, leaving Thad to lean against the wall with a pronounced pout. Blaine grinned as he watched his friends, and Kurt didn’t have it in him to say anything when Blaine’s eyes were crinkling up happily like that.  
  
Kurt had missed that expression more than he could put into words.  
  
God, he wanted nothing more than to kiss Blaine right then—his entire being ached with the sudden desire—but he restrained himself; it wasn’t his place. Even if Blaine had remembered that Kurt had come home that week to talk about their relationship, they hadn’t actually resolved anything.  
  
 _"What… What do you want from me, Kurt?"_  
  
 _"I was finally moving on, only to have it all thrown in my face tonight."_  
  
 _"I just… I can't do this right now, Kurt."_  
  
Kurt suppressed a flinch at the memories, and glanced over at Blaine, who had been pulled into some meaningless stream of conversation with the Warblers. Kurt couldn’t bring himself to follow the conversation, though he recognized some of the names being thrown around either from talking with Blaine or his own time at Dalton. Instead, he focused his attention on Blaine, watching as he came alive around his friends. There was a light behind his eyes that Kurt couldn’t remember seeing in a long time.  
  
A stomach-turning thought hit Kurt then; had he taken that light from Blaine when he’d pushed his boyfriend to transfer to McKinley?  
  
Kurt knew now, months after their breakup and a lot of introspection later, that he’d been heavily focused on his own problems senior year, content to have Blaine at his side but not particularly thinking about how Blaine might be missing Dalton and the Warblers. Blaine had gotten along with the other members of New Directions for the most part, but he hadn’t been close to anyone outside of maybe Mike.  
  
Blaine had never complained though, and it hadn’t occurred to Kurt that he might have felt isolated—not until he  _saw_  the difference in Blaine around his friends, anyway. It was a jarring revelation that left Kurt feeling nauseous.  
  
After a few attempts at pulling Kurt into the conversation were rebuffed, the other boys simply stopped trying. Every now and then, Kurt would glance up from Blaine to see Sebastian looking at him, an unreadable expression on his face. He’d just raise an eyebrow when Kurt glared at him before turning back to the conversation.  
  
Kurt realized after a few minutes that Warblers hadn’t once commented on the weakness of Blaine’s voice; in fact, after their initial hesitation at seeing Blaine looking so fragile, they’d recovered remarkably well and were acting as though nothing was wrong.  
  
It was exactly what Blaine needed.  
  
But about half an hour into the visit Blaine started flagging. Kurt was actually surprised he’d lasted that long after his trying afternoon, but the Warblers had seemed to give him some newfound energy. Sebastian seemed to have noticed as well as he pushed himself to his feet.  
  
“Well, we should probably get going.”  
  
Blaine blinked heavily. “I’m sorry, guys. I don’t mean to—” He yawned. “—fall asleep on you.”  
  
“Blaine,” David said easily as he rose along with the other Warblers. “It’s fine.”  
  
“You just need to focus on getting better,” Thad agreed.  
  
“We’ll be back. It’s Spring Break and everything,” Nick said with a wink.  
  
“Hell, you won’t be able to get rid of us,” Jeff added, elbowing Nick in the side.  
  
Trent reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. He hesitated before handing it to Kurt, who looked at the scrawled  _Blaine_  on the front curiously.  
  
“It’s a card, signed by the other Warblers,” he explained. “And some other Dalton people.”  
  
Blaine swallowed shakily, glancing between the envelope and the Warblers. “Thanks guys,” he whispered as Kurt opened the envelope and handed the card to him. He traced a hand reverently over the front, as though he couldn’t believe someone would care enough to do something like that for him.  
  
“Once a Warbler, always a Warbler, right?” Sebastian asked.  
  
Kurt wanted to make some kind of nasty response to that about loyalty and slushies, but Blaine’s lip twitched and he nodded back at Sebastian. There must be some joke there that Kurt wasn’t aware of.  
  
“We’ll see you later, Blaine!”  
  
“Sebastian,” Blaine called quietly. “Wait.”  
  
The other boy glanced back at the other Warblers, who were already in the hall but watching the exchange with varied levels of curiosity, but came back over to the bed. “Yeah?”  
  
Blaine yawned again, but he shook his head when Sebastian looked like he was about to protest. “It’s fine. Just.” He took a breath before continuing. “I hear you found me. After,” he said haltingly.  
  
Sebastian lost a bit of color at that, but he nodded. Kurt wondered, not for the first time, how exactly Sebastian had found Blaine in that parking lot. His imagination would likely be creating scenarios for the rest of his life as he thought about it, but they would never compare with the real deal.  
  
“I did,” Sebastian managed to reply.  
  
“They told me that you…” Blaine’s eyes drooped shut but he forced them open again. Stubborn. “That you probably saved my life.”  
  
“Blaine, I—” Sebastian seemed startled, and more than a little uncomfortable, to have the subject broached.  
  
“Thank you,” Blaine murmured, reaching for the other boy’s hand. Sebastian let him take it, watching with no small amount of wonder as Blaine squeezed it briefly before letting go.  
  
Something wrenched in Kurt’s chest at the sight and he had to look away.  
  
He only looked up once the door had been shut behind Sebastian, putting a barrier between them and the Warbler whirlwind. Kurt turned to Blaine, who had opened the card and was peering inside.  
  
“There’re so many,” he murmured in awe, looking at all the signatures and notes.  
  
Kurt raised an eyebrow, pushing aside those jealous feelings with as much force as he could muster and glanced at the card in Blaine’s lap, which was nearly solid with handwriting. Even now, nearly two years after Blaine had left the school, his legacy lived on. It wasn’t surprising; Blaine had been one of the most popular kids at Dalton, and being his best friend and a Warbler had put Kurt on top of the food chain at Dalton almost immediately after his transfer. It had been a dizzying climb up the social ladder. Blaine, after all, was uniquely talented as a performer—the Warblers knew it and had continued trying to woo him back to Dalton even a year after his transfer.  
  
But more than that, Blaine was a genuinely good person.  
  
“You have a lot of people who care about you,” Kurt said, nudging him gently.  
  
Blaine looked over at Kurt and gave him a wan smile. Kurt reached out for Blaine’s hand and squeezed it gently as Blaine’s eyes fluttered shut. Kurt, his heart aching, stroked the back of Blaine’s hand with his thumb as the other boy’s breathing evened out in sleep.

\-----

  
Sebastian looked up from the book he was reading at a knock on his door. “Come in,” he called, fairly certain as to who would be bothering him the Friday night of Spring Break. Most of the campus had emptied out that day as students went home, but there were still a few boarders, like Sebastian, who were staying for break.  
  
A moment later, the door cracked open and Thad’s head peered into the room. “Hey.”  
  
Sebastian nodded in greeting—not surprised in the slightest at his guest—and put his Kindle down. “Coming to try to get me to socialize?” he guessed. He’d ended up skipping the Warbler gathering once they’d gotten back from the hospital.  
  
Thad stepped into the room and shut the door behind him before shaking his head. “Nah. I don’t think a lot of the guys are in a partying mood after all.”  
  
Sebastian raised an eyebrow as his phone beeped with another text demanding that he join the party. The remaining Warblers had commandeered the senior commons and were blasting music that echoed through the empty hallways. As an RA, Thad was technically supposed to be in charge, but it looked like he had as much interest in joining the fun as Sebastian did.  
  
“None of the seniors are in the mood,” Thad corrected.  
  
There it was. Seeing a good friend laid up in the hospital in the wake of a hate crime tended to kill any joyful mood. Blaine had been in good spirits, though, enough so that there were moments that it was easy to forget they weren’t just hanging out at a Warbler get-together. But Blaine’s voice had been strained and his eyes glassy and distant.  
  
And then there were the injuries themselves. Sebastian had been more prepared than the other Warblers, who’d been remarkably silent on the side back to campus from the hospital, for them. Blaine was normally a ball of charisma and energy—he seemed to take up far more space in a room or on stage than his compact size allowed—but seeing him looking so small and fragile, no matter how much he’d improved since being admitted, was  _hard_.  
  
Yet, all Sebastian could think about was the feel of Blaine’s hand taking his and squeezing it as he whispered his thanks. He’d felt Blaine’s hand in his own more than once before from various handshakes, but there had been something intimate about that specific touch that left Sebastian’s skin tingling and his pulse pounding.  
  
 _Fuck._  
  
“Sebastian?” Thad asked with a frown.  
  
Sebastian blinked, shaking himself. “Yeah, sorry. Did you have something in mind then?”  
  
“Seniors-only movie night?”  
  
Sebastian opened his mouth to decline, but there was something in Thad’s look (and the lingering feeling in Sebastian’s hand) that had him changing his mind. He threw his legs over the edge of his bed and got to his feet. Forgetting everything for a few hours didn’t sound like a bad idea after all.  
  
“Sure.”

\-----

  
When Kurt walked into Blaine’s room Saturday morning, Cooper was already there, but he wasn’t alone. Tina sat next to Blaine on his bed, one leg curled up under her and the other on the floor for balance. Blaine was resting his head against her shoulder as he smiled blearily at something Sam, who was sitting at Blaine’s feet on the bed, was saying. A wave of jealousy crashed through Kurt at the sight as he remembered the pictures in Blaine’s room, but he tamped down on it as he shut the door behind him.  
  
“Hey Kurt!” Sam greeted with a wave.  
  
Cooper also lifted his hand in greeting, though they’d already seen each other that morning.  
  
“Kurt,” Tina said, though her tone was cooler. Kurt raised an eyebrow, but she just stared at him levelly as he took a seat at Blaine’s other side. Kurt filed that reaction away to think about later.  
  
“Hey you,” Blaine murmured, turning his head to glance at Kurt through half-lidded eyes.  
  
Warmth blossomed in Kurt’s chest at the look; it was one Kurt had seen in private countless times, a sleepy contentment present most often when Kurt returned to bed after cleaning them up after sex. The first time he’d seen it, Kurt was sure he’d stopped breathing for a moment at the sudden understanding of how  _deeply_  he loved Blaine. The look had never stopped making his heart flutter, and for so long after their breakup, he’d been sure he was never going to see it again. The world felt like it was righting itself with that look on Blaine’s face again.  
  
Then Blaine blinked and the hospital room came back into focus.  
  
“Hi,” Kurt replied breathlessly, heart still hammering.  
  
Blaine, oblivious of Kurt’s revelation, just smiled before turning back to Tina and Sam.  
  
Kurt couldn’t help notice how easy Blaine, Sam, and Tina seemed around one another; he knew they’d gotten close in the last months, having seen the pictures on Facebook and heard about some of their antics from the occasional phone call or text message. It hadn’t seemed like an obvious trio at first to Kurt, but seeing them together now, it made sense. They slotted together effortlessly, finishing each other’s sentences and picking up strains of conversation without pause.  
  
Like with the Warblers the night before, Blaine had noticeably perked up around Tina and Sam. His muscles seemed looser, his voice stronger, and his energy level higher. Kurt couldn’t take his eyes off him.  
  
Of course, even friend-boosted energy levels weren’t enough to fight his body’s need for healing sleep, and Blaine soon drifted off, still leaning against Tina, leaving the rest of them to speak in hushed voices.  
  
The rest of the day passed in a blur as Blaine was taken for several rounds of tests during the afternoon. They also scheduled surgery for his knee on Monday to repair the torn ligaments. The doctors been most concerned with the swelling in Blaine’s brain when he’d first been admitted, but now that his recovery prognosis was good, it was time to start dealing with his other injuries.  
  
Cooper, Kurt, Sam, and Tina sat together in the waiting room while the doctors ran their tests, and Burt joined them after lunch. It was such a different mood from the last time that Kurt had sat in the waiting room that the light conversation between his companions took him off-guard more than once.  
  
At one point, Sam and Cooper even ended up in an accent contest with Tina serving as judge. And it was then Kurt realized that Blaine’s friendship with Sam and Tina actually made a whole lot of sense.  
  
Once the tests were finished hours later, a nurse took them back to Blaine’s room but warned them that he was likely going to sleep the rest of the evening. After checking to see that Blaine was indeed sleeping off the afternoon’s events, Sam and Tina headed out, promising to return soon. Cooper, Kurt, and Burt stayed until visiting hours ended at eight before heading back to the Andersons’.  
  
On Sunday, Finn and Carole arrived mid-morning. Carole immediately set to fussing over a blushing Blaine while Finn gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder. Kurt rolled his eyes and Blaine met his gaze, amusement evident on his face. They fell into easy conversation as Blaine dozed on and off.  
  
It was early afternoon when there was a knock on the door and Sebastian entering moments later. Finn stiffened and Sebastian froze, his hand still on the door handle, when he saw who was present.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Finn demanded, his eyes narrowed.  
  
Kurt looked curiously between Finn and Sebastian. Did Finn not know that Sebastian had been the one to find Blaine? Kurt could’ve sworn they’d told him. But if nothing else, Kurt would’ve thought Finn, as acting leader of the glee club for several months, would’ve been aware that Blaine and Sebastian were friends. But then again, Finn wasn’t the most perceptive of people and it wouldn’t have been something Blaine would’ve broadcasted to the members of New Directions.  
  
Well this might get interesting in a hurry.  
  
“Down boy,” Sebastian retorted, shutting the door and squaring his shoulders to face the room.  
  
“Remembering the last time you put Blaine in the hospital?”  
  
Sebastian flinched.  
  
“Finn,” Burt said sharply. “Enough.”  
  
Finn shut his mouth, but glared at Sebastian, who had yet to move from the doorway.  
  
“I can come back…” he said hesitantly, glancing around.  
  
“Bas,” Blaine said tiredly, having been nodding off when Sebastian arrived. “Stay. Please.”  
  
Kurt turned to Blaine in surprise.  _Bas?_  He glanced over at Sebastian, who hadn’t seemed surprised by the nickname and instead just looked uncomfortable. Kurt couldn’t help the sense of petty satisfaction he got from the tension in Sebastian’s shoulders; it seemed he wasn’t as aloof as he liked to pretend when it came to others’ opinions about him after all.  
  
“I’m going to get coffee,” Finn muttered, rising from his seat and brushing past Sebastian, shoulder checking him as he went, out the door.  
  
Sebastian clenched his jaw but said nothing, simply taking Finn’s vacated seat. Blaine nodded at him. “Thank you,” he murmured.  
  
“The things I do for you,” Sebastian muttered.  
  
Blaine chuckled and the corner of Sebastian’s lip quirked upward.  
  
“What was that was about?” Cooper asked.  
  
Kurt sat up a bit straighter in his seat; he remembered sitting in the Lima Bean with Rachel when Sebastian had presented the photoshopped pictures of Finn in the first place. He inclined his head at Sebastian. “Yes  _Bas_. Do tell.”  
  
Sebastian glared at him.  _If looks could kill…_  
  
Well, if looks could kill, Kurt would’ve reduced Sebastian to nothing but ash a hundred times over the previous year, but that was neither here nor there. Kurt was enjoying seeing Sebastian squirm, though.  
  
“Guys, leave it,” Blaine said. He was blinking heavily, fighting his body’s need to sleep. “It’s in the past.”  
  
 _Apparently more in the past for some than others_. But Kurt supposed Blaine was right; Sebastian had never published the pictures. While Finn had every reason to be furious, Blaine deserved to have the people he cared about surrounding him…  
  
No matter how much the rest of them might dislike certain people Blaine cared about.  
  
It was going to be a long day.

\-----

  
The Anderson house felt empty that night, with Burt having gone back to Lima with Finn and Carole for his treatment the next day. Cooper was moving around somewhere upstairs and Kurt sat on the couch in the living room, nursing a cup of tea and surfing through the channels in a vain effort to find something to take his mind of things.  
  
“Sunday night television sucks,” he grumbled.  
  
After a few more minutes of aimless flipping—how many channels did the Andersons have, anyway?—Kurt did a double take when he realized he’d just passed a channel with Blaine’s name on the screen. He flipped back to CNN, which had a reporter standing outside what looked like Westerville Memorial and a banner across the bottom of the screen reading “Hate crimes in America: The Blaine Anderson case.”  
  
“Oh my god. Cooper!” he yelled, voice raising an octave, “there’s something you need to see!”  
  
He heard Cooper’s footsteps thundering down the stairs before he saw the older man appear in the doorway. “What the prob— Oh  _shit_.”  
  
 _“—rson is in stable condition after several days when his prognosis was uncertain,”_  the reporter was saying.  _“Authorities are investigating the case as a hate crime. Three men have been charged with felony assault and, under the Matthew Shepard Act, could face ten years in prison if convicted.”_  
  
 _“Thank you, Melissa,”_  the desk anchor said before turning to face the camera.  _“The Blaine Anderson case took on national prominence when it was discovered that Anderson is a family friend of Congressman Burt Hummel, who is a staunch supporter of gay rights and has an openly gay son himself. We’ll keep you updated as we learn more.”_  
  
Kurt turned the television off and turned to Cooper, whose face had gone blank. It was an expression that could be masking any number of emotions, but considering Cooper’s protective instincts that had come out since he’d arrived, Kurt was willing to bet it was anger.  
  
“Cooper?” he tried tentatively.  
  
Cooper opened his mouth but he shut it when his back pocket started ringing. He cursed under his breath and pulled out his phone. His eyes widened when he read the caller ID.  
  
“It’s my mother.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Mom?” Cooper answered immediately. “Thank god. We’ve been trying—” He grimaced, running a hand over his face. “You saw the news.”

Kurt’s stomach plummeted. He couldn’t even imagine what the elder Andersons must have felt finding out about their son being brutally beaten from a newscast. The Andersons might be more distant than Kurt’s family, but even Blaine’s parents had to have been horrified to see their son’s name on television in relation to a hate crime when they must have assumed he was at home on Spring Break.  
   
“I— Yeah, he’s awake. They weren’t sure for a while.” Pause. “No, no brain damage. The last thing he remembers is the day before the— It happened on Monday, Mom.  The last thing Blaine remembers is Sunday evening, but the doctors said memory loss is norm—”  
   
Cooper pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand as his mother kept interrupting him. He listened for a few moments before speaking again. “He’s having another surgery tomorrow. For his knee.” Cooper ran an irritated hand through his hair. “Those assholes beat the shit out of him, Mom. He has broken ribs, a broken arm, broken fingers, torn ligaments in his knee, his brain was swelling…”  
   
Cooper slumped against the doorway, shutting his eyes as his mother spoke on the other end. Kurt could just make out a tinny higher-pitched voice from his spot on the couch.  
   
“He’s going to be okay,” Cooper said quietly. Kurt turned away, suddenly feeling like he was intruding as Cooper slid to the floor, his back against the doorframe. “Blaine’s strong. He’s a fighter.” Pause. “Yeah, Mom. I can pick you guys up from the airport. Call me when you book a flight.”  
   
After a few more moments of listening to his mother, Cooper hung up his phone and sighed. “They’re, uh, they’re going to get the first flight out of port.”  
   
Kurt turned to look back at Cooper and nodded. “So they really didn’t know?”  
   
Cooper shook his head. “Dad’s been a work-a-holic lately—not that that’s much of a change,” he added in a bitter aside, “so apparently my mother’s stipulation for the trip was that they be completely away from technology. Their phones were off and they hadn’t even brought their laptops.” His shoulders slumped. “They were at a restaurant in port when they saw the news.”  
   
“Oh.”  
   
Cooper’s head thunked quietly against the doorframe. The tense silence stretched on as Cooper remained mute and Kurt had no idea what to say; he hadn’t had much interaction with Blaine’s parents in the time he’d known Blaine, though he got the distinct impression they didn’t approve of him. He just wasn’t sure whether it was because he was Blaine’s boyfriend—actual proof of Blaine’s orientation that they couldn’t ignore—or that he was unable to pass the way Blaine was. And Blaine always changed the subject whenever Kurt asked.  
   
But either way, Blaine had done his best to keep Kurt out of his parents’ paths, though they seemed to travel a lot, making it a fairly easy task. And Blaine far preferred to spend time at the Hummel-Hudson house anyway, since Kurt’s dad and Carole were happy to include him in their family events, like Friday night dinners.  
   
So while Kurt hadn’t spent much time around Blaine’s parents, he did have a distinct impression of the Anderson family dynamics with everything Blaine and Cooper had told him. He had a sinking feeling that things were going to get more complicated—the last thing Blaine needed right now—once the Andersons arrived. He only wished he knew what he could do about it.  
   
“I’m going to crash,” Cooper said finally, pushing himself to his feet.  
   
“Night,” Kurt said for lack of anything better to say.  
   
Cooper gave a short wave before walking toward the stairs, though he paused at the bottom of the stairwell. “Kurt, as far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome to say here. But I can’t make any promises for my parents.”  
   
Kurt’s stomach twisted, but he knew Cooper was right. He wouldn’t be the cause of extra drama; that was really the only thing he  _could_ do right now.  
   
“I understand,” he said quietly. “I appreciate you letting me stay at all.” Because what else could he say? Cooper and Blaine hadn’t chosen their parents any more than Kurt had, yet Kurt seemed to have won the parental lottery.  
   
Cooper opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but, apparently thinking better of it, shut it again. He nodded and silently headed up the stairs. It wasn’t until his footsteps had faded away behind the shutting of his bedroom door that Kurt dropped his face into his hands.  
   
If it wasn’t one thing…  
   
With a sigh, Kurt turned the lights out in the living room and made a mental note to call his dad the next day.

\-----

At lunchtime on Monday, Will stood in front of a somber glee club in the choir room, one empty chair drawing surreptitious looks from everyone in the room. Finn was sitting off to the side, but Will nodded for him to stand up next to him. As Finn moved, all eyes focused on the two men and the quiet murmurs cut off.  
   
Will glanced around the room, making sure he had everyone’s attention before taking a breath and speaking. “As we all know, last week we nearly lost one of our own,” he began, immediately wincing at the obvious statement.  
   
Word had spread around the school like wildfire that morning; the attack had made national news the previous week and Blaine was popular around the school, so the attack was the only thing the student body was talking about. There had also been a faculty meeting, but the only information Figgins had was what he could glean from the news and a short call from Blaine’s older brother that morning with a brief update on his condition.  
   
Will was aghast that anyone could do such a brutal thing to a  _kid_ , but he also remembered Kurt’s junior year when he’d been forced to transfer to Dalton because of Karofsky’s bullying. Kids these days went through so much more than Will ever had at their age.  
   
“How is he?” Marley asked immediately.  
   
“He’s doing better,” Finn answered with a shrug when Will looked at him. Finn was the one with the most up-to-date information, after all. “I saw him yesterday and he was smiling and joking around some. But he’s still in a lot of pain and is sleeping a lot.”  
   
“Can we visit him after school?” Brittany asked.  
   
Finn shook his head. “Kurt said to wait ‘cause he had surgery on his knee this morning. It went fine, but I guess he’s pretty out of it from the painkillers. And his parents are coming in tonight.”  
   
Brittany frowned but nodded, lacing her fingers with Sam’s and squeezing. Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulders. On Sam’s other side, Tina was biting her lip and slouching in her chair.  
   
“What about the assholes that did this to him?” Jake asked from his seat in the back row. His hand was clenching and unclenching a fist.  
   
“The cops arrested three guys,” Finn said. “They were, uh,” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “They were the same guys who hurt him at his old school. Before Dalton.”  
   
There was a combination of confused murmurs from the younger members of the club and outrage from the older ones.  
   
Will, for his part, hadn’t been aware that Blaine had been chased to Dalton because of bullying like Kurt had, and the realization that the bright, energetic boy who led the New Directions was hiding pain like that was haunting. Will was an educator; he wanted to help his students become the best people they could be, but realizing he had no idea about such an important part of his  _lead soloist’s_  life was more than a little humbling. Blaine always seemed so put together that it never occurred to Will that there might be something else going on under the surface.  
   
But then he hadn’t known about the extent of the bullying Kurt had endured before he’d left for Dalton either. What else didn’t he know about his kids? He resolved then and there that he was going to make sure to pay closer attention to the kids and be the support that they needed. He’d always had a nagging suspicion that he’d failed Kurt, not really knowing what to do with him. But he didn’t have to repeat that failure with these new New Directions.  
   
For the rest of the period, Finn answered questions from the glee kids as best he could—the revelation that Sebastian Smythe was the witness who identified Blaine’s attackers was in particular met with shock and suspicion—before they made plans to visit Westerville Memorial the next day after school with a card and a song. When the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, Will quickly broke in.  
   
“Ms. Pillsbury wanted me to remind you that her door is always open if you need to talk,” he told the kids, who were grabbing their bags and heading for the door.  
   
“What, like a grief counselor?” Ryder asked curiously.  
   
Sugar gave him an odd look. “But no one died.”  
   
“Is she even qualified for that?” Kitty demanded, raising an eyebrow.  
   
Will just shrugged, not having the answer to that, and watched the kids leave.  
   
It was only after they’d all left and he was standing alone with Finn that he realized that Wade hadn’t said anything the entire meeting.

\-----

Blaine groaned as consciousness slowly returned, the throb in his knee radiating through his veins all the way to the tips of his finger and toes. The ache of his other injuries was muted in compared. The pain seemed external and internal at the same time, hitting his knee from all directions.  
   
“Blaine, honey?”  
   
Blaine’s eyes snapped open at the familiar voice and he turned his head to see what he was sure must be a painkiller-induced hallucination. It wouldn’t be the first one he’d had since waking up, and there was no way…  
   
“There you are.”  
   
Blaine blinked several times, not trusting his eyes. The drugs left him sluggish and hazy; that had to be what this was. But when she reached out and took his hand, the contact felt so real. He shivered in spite of himself.  
   
“Mom?” Blaine whispered.  
   
Maria Anderson smiled widely at that, her eyes crinkling the way Blaine’s did when he smiled. “Hi sweetie.”  
   
“It’s good to see you awake, Blaine.”  
   
Blaine glanced over to see his father sitting to his mother’s left. Oh. “Dad.”  
   
Charles Anderson nodded at him and leaned forward in his chair while Maria stroked the back of his hand gently.  
   
“W-when did you…?”  
   
“About an hour ago,” another voice said.  
   
Blaine started and turned his head to see Cooper sitting on his other side. His brother gave him a wan smile before nodding to their parents.  
   
“I picked them up from the airport, but when we got here, you were asleep.”  
   
Blaine frowned, trying to make sense of that. “When…?” he asked again.  
   
Somehow Cooper seemed to know what he was asking. “They called late last night. By the time I got here this morning, you were already in surgery. And I’ve got to say,” he said with obvious forced levity, “you’ve been pretty worthless ever since, Squirt.”  
   
“Don’t call me that,” Blaine muttered without any heat.  
   
“We saw it on the news,” his mother said quietly.  
   
“We were on a technology-free vacation,” his father added. “After we saw the news, we turned our phones on and saw all the calls from Cooper.”  
   
“And Kurt,” Cooper added. Blaine thought there might have been a note of challenge in that.  
   
His mother stopped stroking Blaine’s hand for a moment before resuming the soothing motion. “Yes.”  
   
Blaine bit his lip but said nothing. This was not the time for a repeat of this conversation. His parents were here, having cut their vacation short for him. Wasn’t that enough?  
   
Wasn’t it?  
   
Blaine swallowed and Cooper put a hand on his arm, just above his cast, and squeezed gently. Even in his haze of pain and painkillers, Blaine had noticed that Cooper had purposefully sat opposite their parents. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he still found himself appreciating the gesture nonetheless.  
   
“We booked the first flight back to Ohio,” Charles said, picking up the thread of conversation. “Someone must have tipped the media off that we were traveling because there were news trucks outside the hospital waiting for us. Vultures, the lot of them,” he muttered.  
   
It took Blaine a moment to register what his parents had said. They’d seen his attack on the  _news_. In some foreign port.  
   
“The news?” he asked, looking between his parents and his brother. “What?”  
   
“Blaine—” his mother started.  
   
But Blaine shook his head, ignoring the headache growing behind his eyes. What was going on? He felt like everything was spiraling around him and he’d only just realized it. “What’s going on?”  
   
“Your case was picked up by the national news, Blainey,” Cooper said quietly.  
   
Blaine looked at him in alarm. “I don’t… Why?” he breathed. He was feeling short of breath and his ribs ached as he tried to take short breaths. Cooper shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Coop. Please.”  
   
His brother’s shoulders drooped. “Hate crimes are a big issue right now.”  
   
Blaine felt like he was going to be sick. Of course it was a hate crime. From what he’d been told of that night, he’d been targeted because he was gay. And the last time the same three guys had attacked him had also been because he was gay. He’d done his reading; that was the  _definition_  of a hate crime…  
   
But somehow hearing it put into words, hearing it  _categorized_ , shifted something inside him.  
   
“And you’re the family friend of a Congressman who is well-known for his stance in favor of gay rights,” Cooper continued.  
   
“Cooper—” Charles admonished, but Blaine barely heard him.  
   
Politics. Blaine was lying in a hospital bed with almost a week he couldn’t remember and injuries that kept him from  _moving_  and it had been reduced to politics.  
   
Grey began creeping into the corners of his vision again.  
   
“Honey, you look pale,” his mother said. “Should I get a nurse?”  
   
Blaine screwed his eyes shut as his headache continued to grow. His knee throbbed, his head ached, his ribs pounded, and his arm felt like a dead weight. And his stomach was in his throat, giving him the sensation of falling. As the world fell away, voices faded in and out around him.  
   
“—oing to get a nurse.”  
   
“You shouldn’t have told hi—”  
   
“—y not, Dad? It’s true.”  
   
“You don’t know tha… --on’t know it was because he’s…”  
   
“—ay. He’s gay, Dad. It’s not a bad word. You ca…”  
   
“It’s not polite. It’s all be… --at boy he was see…”  
   
“—tlemen, please calm down. You’re distressing Bla—”  
   
“—ine, sweetie, this… with the pain. It’ll hel—”  
   
And then there was mercifully nothing.

\-----

_Roy leaned against a wall, a baseball bat resting on his shoulder.  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Blaine,” he said conversationally._  
   
 _“Do what?” Blaine asked, eyes darting between Roy and his car._  
   
 _“Run. Not that you have anywhere to go.”_

\-----

The next morning, Blaine was awake early and he was antsy. His knee was throbbing painfully, but his mind would not stop turning over the idea that his story had made the national news. He needed to see for himself. So, once he’d gotten another dose of painkillers, he’d asked a nurse bring him a remote—which was accompanied by a stern warning to turn it off if he started getting any sort of headache.  
   
He flipped through the news channels, finally settling on CNN around the time visiting hours started. Kurt and Sebastian walked into his room a few minutes after eight, neither making eye contact with the other and they took seats on opposite sides of Blaine’s bed.  
   
“Cooper called me last night to say he’d keep your parents occupied for a couple of hours so we could visit without any drama,” Kurt informed him once he’d settled in.  
   
Blaine nodded and sent out silent thanks to his brother. Whatever deficiencies Cooper had had as an older brother when Blaine was younger, he was making up for them now in spades. And Blaine couldn’t help but think it had a lot to do with the fact that he hadn’t been present after Sadie Hawkins. Normally he might have been annoyed at his brother’s need to fit himself into Blaine’s business, especially as a means of penance or whatever it was, but for now he appreciated it more than he could say.  
   
Sebastian nodded toward the TV, which Blaine had lowered the volume on. There was some story about the stock market on. “Interesting choice,” he said with a raised eyebrow.  
   
Blaine cracked a wry smile. “I hear I’m famous,” he said. “I wanted to see for myself.”  
   
Kurt bit his lip. “Blaine—”  
   
There was something in his tone, something wary like Blaine was a spooked animal, that for some reason sparked Blaine’s irritation. “Kurt, I’m not some… child,” he nearly spat, “that needs to be protected from the big scary world out there.” He shook his head in derision. “I  _know_  what’s out there. I need to see this for myself.”  
   
Kurt looked back at him, wide-eyed, and suddenly Blaine’s anger was gone, vanished as though it had never existed. He shut his eyes and slumped back into the pillows.  
   
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, exhausted and embarrassed all at once.  
   
“Hey,” Kurt said, reaching over and taking his hand. “It’s okay.”  
   
“If I were in the amount of pain you must be in right now, I wouldn’t be nearly as nice as you’re being,” Sebastian added. “In fact, I’d take the excuse to bitch  _everyone_  out.”  
   
Blaine huffed a weak laugh and opened his eyes to glance over at Sebastian, who had his arms crossed against his chest and was sitting back in his chair.  
   
“As if you need an excuse,” Kurt muttered.  
   
“Pot, meet kettle,” Sebastian retorted.  
   
Blaine felt more than saw Kurt tense and he sighed, looking back at the television. “Guys.”  
   
They both fell silent after that. After a few uncomfortable moments, Blaine picked up the remote and turned the volume back up on the television and all three settled in to watch.  
   
Minutes ticked by in awkward silence. Eventually, Blaine glanced over at Kurt, who was typing into his phone. The other boy looked up when he felt Blaine’s eyes on him and shrugged in embarrassment.  
   
“Rachel,” he said with a nod toward his phone. “She’s been desperate for updates, and she and Finn aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now.”  
   
Blaine nodded, turning back to the television. The scrolling marquee on the screen was reading Tuesday, March 25. Something about that seemed odd. It took a moment for his sluggish mind to make the connection, but then the pieces fell into place immediately: Rachel, New York, Tuesday. He turned back to Kurt.  
   
“It’s Tuesday.”  
   
Kurt raised an eyebrow at that. “Yes. Yesterday was Monday and tomorrow is Wednesday.”  
   
But Blaine didn’t rise to the bait. “That means Spring Break is over. Shouldn’t you be back in New York?”  
   
Kurt went still at that, his face going carefully blank. Blaine frowned at the response. There was definitely something going on.  
   
“Kurt.”  
   
Sebastian cleared his throat and pushed himself to his feet, making more noise than was probably necessary. “I’m going to get some coffee.”  
   
Kurt shot him a look that was a mix between irritated and thankful, but Sebastian didn’t notice as he left the room and shut the door without a backward look. Blaine briefly wondered if  _Sebastian_ knew what was going on but quickly dismissed it since he and Kurt weren’t exactly on civil terms.  
   
Once Sebastian was gone, Blaine turned back to Kurt. “What’s going on?”  
   
“I…”  
   
Blaine clenched his jaw, annoyance rising again. “Didn’t we just talk about this?”  
   
Kurt sighed. “I’m not trying to  _protect_  you,” he denied uneasily. “I just… didn’t want you to know?”  
   
Blaine blinked. “So you’re lying to me?” Kurt pursed his lips and Blaine sighed. “Kurt.”  
   
“It’s not—” Kurt started but cut himself off. He swallowed and then blurted out, “I’m taking a leave of absence. From NYADA.”  
   
For a moment, Blaine wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. The pain and meds must be messing with his hearing because there was no way Kurt had just said what Blaine thought he had. But Kurt was looking at him with that determined look that challenged him to say anything about it, and wow. Okay, maybe he  _had_ said that.  
   
“What?” was all Blaine managed to respond.  
   
“As much as I hate to give the meerkat credit,” Kurt said, “he got me thinking.”  
   
“Sebastian got you thinking,” Blaine echoed with an impending sense of dread. Sebastian might be one of Blaine’s closest friends these days, but he knew just what the other boy thought of Kurt. Anything he might have gotten Kurt thinking about couldn’t be good.  
   
Kurt nodded. “I realized that I was being selfish.” He took a breath and said, “I came back last week to ask you to get back together.”  
   
Blaine thought his heart might have skipped a beat in his shock. “What?” he rasped.  
   
Kurt nodded, looking a bit wistful. “I broke up with Adam because I realized that I still loved you and that was never going to change.” He shrugged helplessly. “I forgave you a long time ago but hadn’t even realized it.”  
   
Blaine’s mouth had gone dry. This had to be a dream because there was no way Kurt was sitting in front of him talking about getting back together. That just wasn’t in the realm of remote possibility. It was more than Blaine was ready to deal with.  
   
Kurt shook his head. “Anyway, I came back to talk to you. And we never got the chance because of, well,” he said, gesturing around him.  
   
Blaine nodded mutely, trying to figure out where this was going. Everything felt like it was spiraling around him again.  
   
“But while we were waiting for you to wake up I realized, thanks to Sebastian of all people,” he added with an eye roll, “that I wasn’t being fair to you.” Kurt’s voice went soft then and he squeezed Blaine’s hand. “Even if this hadn’t happened and we had decided to get back together, I was still leaving at the end of the week. I was still going to leave you back here in Lima, just like in the fall.”  
   
“Kurt, that’s your life,” Blaine replied, shaking his head. “Your  _dream_. You worked so hard for it. You deserve it.”  
   
But Kurt shook his head. “ _You’re_  my dream, Blaine Devon Anderson. All of that other stuff is meaningless if I can’t share it with the man that I love.”  
   
Blaine opened his mouth, but Kurt cut him off. “And it’s not like I’m giving it up completely. I explained to Dean Tibideaux that my dad’s sick and that my best friend’s in the hospital.” His mouth twisted wryly. “She saw the news too, so understood.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I won’t get credit for the classes that I’m in now, but I can restart in the fall.”  
   
“Kurt—”  
   
“The paperwork’s already been filed, so there’s no point in trying to talk me out of it,” Kurt said stubbornly, inclining his head. “I’m not going to leave you behind this time, Blaine. I’m  _not_.”  
   
For a long moment, Blaine just stared at Kurt, the realization of what he’d just given up for Blaine’s sake washing over him like a tidal wave. He wasn’t sure what to feel. Relief warred with worry. Happiness warred with uncertainty. Gratitude warred with indignation.  
   
But Kurt returned his gaze without a trace of reservation about what he’d done. And that, more than anything, let the tension start draining from his shoulders. He swallowed and nodded.  
   
“Okay.”


	11. Chapter 11

Sebastian returned a few minutes after Kurt’s confession, raising an eyebrow at the brittle atmosphere in the room but wisely didn’t comment. The trio returned to watching the news, occasionally switching between CNN and MSNBC, though nothing about Blaine’s case came on either channel. Blaine wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Cooper texted Kurt a little before ten, telling him that the Andersons were on their way. Kurt and Sebastian left a few minutes later, though they seemed hesitant to do so. Blaine turned the television to ESPN just before his family arrived around a quarter after. His father gave the channel an approving look before taking a seat at Blaine’s bedside. They settled in to watching March Madness highlights, Cooper once again opposite their parents.  
  
Blaine found himself drifting as his dad and Cooper bantered over the teams and his mother read something on her iPad. He was just the right amount of fuzzy from the medication and comfortable with his family near. His eyes slid shut, the familiar voices lulling...  
  
 _Kurt turned on the couch to face Blaine, pulling a leg up under him. In the dim room, the television’s bright colors illuminated Kurt’s pale skin and cast moving shadows across his face, giving him an ethereal quality._  
  
 _“I want to talk, Blaine. I mean it.” He swallowed. “I had this whole speech in my head that I rehearsed on the flight and everything.” He shook his head with a wry smile; it wasn’t a happy expression. “And then you opened the door and it felt like it was the first time I was seeing_ you _in months. And the entire speech just flew out of my head.”_  
  
Blaine’s eyes flew open with a gasp and, for a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was.  
  
“Blaine, honey?”  
  
He turned his head to see his mother, her tablet resting in her lap and her eyes fixed worriedly on him. His father turned from the television as well. Blaine swallowed. Right. Hospital. Family.  
  
“I’m okay,” he said finally, once he trusted his voice. Was he getting bits and pieces of his missing memories back? Or was his brain just filling in events he’d been told had happened? There was only one way to find out. “I just… I need to talk to Kurt.”  
  
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, son,” Charles said slowly, brow furrowing.  
  
“I—”  
  
“I think Kurt went back to Lima to be with his father today,” Maria said more gently, though there was something underneath the words that Blaine, after years of learning to read between the lines when it came to his parents, didn’t quite trust. “Mr. Hummel is ill, isn’t he?”  
  
Blaine nodded absently. “Prostate cancer. They caught it early, though.”  
  
His parents hummed noncommittally. The Andersons might not be the biggest fans of the Hummels, but Blaine knew his parents well enough to know they wouldn’t say anything ill of someone with cancer. Think, maybe, but not say.  
  
“Do you want to call Kurt?” Cooper asked from Blaine’s other side.  
  
“I don’t have my phone,” Blaine replied, though he gave his brother a grateful look. For all of Cooper’s shortcomings, he’d been the one member of the family who’d taken Blaine’s coming out in stride and had accepted Kurt as his boyfriend without reservation when they’d been introduced. “I guess it got wrecked?”  
  
“We’ll have to get you another one, then,” Cooper said simply, looking back at their parents though he was still speaking to Blaine. “So you can keep in touch with your friends while you’re laid up.”  
  
“That would be great,” Blaine agreed, also glancing at their parents. If his parents were going to make it uncomfortable for Blaine’s friends to come visit, having a way to get in touch with them would be better than nothing. He was feeling isolated, stuck in bed, barely able to move without pulling at  _something_.  
  
Maria and Charles shared a long look, but finally Maria nodded. “We can go by the store after lunch.”  
  
Blaine nodded his thanks. Once Maria had turned back to her tablet and Charles back to the television, Cooper slipped Blaine his phone with a wink.  
  
 _Getting a new phone soon,_  Blaine typed to Kurt.  _Talk later?_  
  
The reply was almost immediate:  _Any time._   _XO_

\-----

About ten minutes after Blaine’s family had gone for lunch and to get Blaine’s new phone there was a timid knock at the door. Blaine muted the television—now on a  _What Not to Wear_ rerun—as the door opened and Unique peered in the room. Blaine’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.  
  
“Is this a bad time?” she asked, looking around the otherwise empty room.  
  
“No,” Blaine said, quickly masking his surprise. “Come in.”  
  
She nodded and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. She was dressed as Wade today, and she looked hesitant as she stood just inside the room—it was an expression he didn’t often see on the normally fierce diva’s face. Blaine nodded toward the chairs next to his bed.  
  
“You can come closer, you know.”  
  
She gave him a sheepish smile and crossed the room. Blaine noticed that her posture was slumped and she seemed tired. She slid into the seat and looked back up at him, expression still a bit nervous.  
  
“Hi,” she said.  
  
“Hi,” Blaine replied with a wan smile.  
  
He wasn’t surprised by her reaction; everyone who’d come to see him so far had been taken aback by his condition at first. He’d finally convinced Kurt to get him a mirror, and once he’d been able to see himself, he’d understood why. He’d known he was bruised to hell—he could see the healing bruises on his arms and legs—and that he was a mess with a cast on his arm, splint on his fingers, and brace on his knee.  
  
But the purples and greens and yellows on his face had momentarily sucker punched him. He could feel the tender skin when he spoke or smiled or yawned, but actually  _seeing_  it was another thing. He’d barely been able to recognize himself, and it had scared the hell out of him.  
  
That night, after visiting hours had ended and Kurt, Cooper, and Sebastian had left, Blaine had broken down, stifling his sobs with a pillow. It had been agonizing, pulling at not just his bruises and breaks, but also his heart as he worried that those bastards had finally irrevocably damaged him. He had a scar on his chest from Sadie Hawkins, yes, but what he truly feared was internal—he was terrified of letting them have the power to change him into a scared shell of who he once was.  
  
He’d eventually fallen asleep, aching and hollowed out. But every time a new visitor flinched at his injuries, Blaine couldn’t help the twinge of bitterness.  
  
“How are you feeling?” Unique asked before cringing. “Okay, terrible question. But Finn said you were doing better.”  
  
“I am,” he assured her. “I mean, still don’t remember anything about what happened.”  
  
 _Unless you count those dreams you’ve been having_ , a voice in the back of his mind taunted, but Blaine shoved that voice as far down as possible before continuing.  
  
“And I had surgery on my knee yesterday. It’s pretty sore,” which was an understatement, especially once the painkillers began wearing off, “but they’re giving me the good stuff.”  
  
He cracked a goofy grin at that and Unique gave a small smile in return, which Blaine considered a win.  
  
“Really,” he added softly. “I’m…” He hesitated, the lie tasting like ash on his tongue. “I’ll be okay,” he finally decided on. Because no, he  _wasn’t_  fine right now; he wasn’t even close, actually. But he was alive and had people who cared about him at his side. He  _could_  be so much worse. And he was figuring out how to come to terms with that. Again.  
  
Unique nodded thoughtfully at that but remained silent, staring at the sheets on Blaine’s bed as though they were the most fascinating thing in the room.  
  
“Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Blaine said once the silence stretched on, “but shouldn’t you be at school?”  
  
Unique looked up. “Unique is skipping,” she said, a hint of challenge in her voice, though it faded quickly into something more somber. “Everyone else is planning to come by after school, but…” She trailed off, seeming to search for the right words. “But I wanted to come see you myself first.”  
  
Blaine remained silent, letting her work through whatever she needed to say.  
  
“I was so terrified when I heard what had happened,” Unique said after a time. “I was so worried about you, of course.” She looked up then, meeting Blaine’s eyes, as though pleading with him to understand. “I’m glad we became friends this year.”  
  
Blaine nodded. They hadn’t started off on the best foot, but eventually they’d become pretty good friends as the year went on. While she spent most of her time with Marley and Blaine was closest with Sam and Tina, they’d found that they had more in common than they’d originally thought and had had some enjoyable coffee and shopping outings in the last few months.  
  
“But I was also, I guess, terrified for me, too.” She swallowed. “You, Blaine Anderson, pass. As straight and white and,” she added when Blaine opened his mouth, “I know you don’t try to be something you’re not. It is what it is. But I guess I thought, if  _you_  could be hurt just for being who you are, what about the rest of us…?” she trailed off.  
  
And Blaine, stomach sinking, got it.  
  
 _“You are the Alpha Gay,”_  Kurt had once snarled at him during a fight.  _“Even Rachel wanted to make out with you.”_  Those words had stung long after the fight had ended as Blaine realized that even Kurt—brave, bold, beautiful Kurt who loved him—resented him for that. Blaine didn’t try to be anything but who he was, but people made assumptions. And it hurt.  
  
“Do you remember when we did  _Grease_?” Unique went on.  
  
Blaine grimaced at the bitter memory of opening night—of running into Kurt backstage, nearly losing it during the performance after making eye contact with him in the audience, and that awful conversation in the hallway after the show—but he masked it and nodded. That was in the past. “Yeah.”  
  
“I wanted to be Rizzo so  _badly_ ,” Unique said, hands bunching in the denim of her jeans. “And Finn gave the part to me. It was like a gift. But then my parents pulled me out because they were worried about my safety.” She bit her lip. “They sat me down and asked me to dress like a boy at school and in public, to leave Unique for the show choir stage if I had to dress like her at all. I was so mad. And hurt,” she said, still looking down. “I thought they just didn’t understand and didn’t want to support me. But now…”  
  
Blaine knew his parents sometimes gave him looks when he left the house in a pair of brightly colored pants or a bowtie, and though they never said anything, he understood their desire for him to  _tone it down_  and  _look like everyone else_. After Sadie Hawkins, he’d worn a lot of jeans and hoodies, and once he’d enrolled in Dalton, he’d had the uniform.  
  
“I wish I could say that it’s not so bad,” Blaine said quietly after it became obvious Unique was done speaking. “And I wish people weren’t so filled with hate.” His knee gave a throb and  _how_  did he wish that were true.  
  
Unique sniffed and nodded.  
  
“But,” Blaine said, carefully considering his next words because he didn’t want to watch one of his friends hurting like that, “when things get bad, I think we sometimes forget all the people who  _do_  love us for who we are.”  
  
Once he’d started dating Kurt, he’d started feeling safe bringing out some of his old clothes from the back of his closet. The summer before he’d transferred to McKinley, he and Kurt had gone through his closet; Kurt had picked out his favorite pieces and they’d gone shopping to update the rest—and those were the ones Blaine wore when he transferred to McKinley.  
  
“What do you mean?” Unique asked softly.  
  
“Remember that day in glee when you told us about the girls that approached you walking home from school?”  
  
Unique stiffened. “Of course.”  
  
Blaine nodded. “And remember how Jake and Ryder immediately volunteered to walk you home any time you wanted them to? Because they care about you.”  
  
Unique considered that a moment. “I guess that’s true.”  
  
“And you perform with the girls,” Blaine added, “no questions asked. Because we accept you for who you are.”  
  
“A proud black woman,” Unique said, raising her chin.  
  
Blaine couldn’t help smile at that. “Exactly.”  
  
Unique nodded thoughtfully, then looked at Blaine curiously before asking, “And what about you?”  
  
Blaine thought about his answer and licked his lips before speaking. “I didn’t have that for a long time.” When Unique inclined her head curiously, Blaine decided to tell her.  
  
“I came out to my family the summer before my freshman year,” he started. “My brother didn’t care but he lived in California so couldn’t do much. My parents weren’t the most supportive, though.” Even now, they tried not to talk about It.  
  
“I didn’t have a lot of friends at my old school, but that fall there was a Sadie Hawkins dance.” Blaine paused for a moment before continuing. “I asked one of my only friends, Josh. He was the only other out guy in the school. We didn’t do much besides stand by the walls and dance to some of the faster songs. But after the dance, we were waiting for his dad in the parking lot, and…”  
  
Blaine took a deep breath. “These three seniors beat the living crap out of us.” Unique inhaled sharply, but Blaine kept speaking. “I don’t remember a lot about that night, but I know they just left us in the parking lot. By the time I woke up in the hospital, Josh’s parents had already transferred him to a school in Columbus.”  
  
He smiled without any humor, head dropping back against the pillow as he looked up at the ceiling. He’d been expecting repeating the story to open old wounds, but mostly he just felt numb, like he’d overloaded his emotional circuits and just  _couldn’t_ right now.  
  
“I haven’t talked to him since.” Though more than once he’d wondered how Josh was doing. Was he in college? Was he seeing someone? Was he happy?  
  
Blaine looked back over at Unique. “I never saw any of the other people I  _had_  considered friends after that either. My parents enrolled me at Dalton once the doctors okayed me to go back to school. So back then, I didn’t have anyone. Not until Dalton and the Warblers.” Though even that had fallen apart for a time as well.  
  
“But you do now,” Unique prompted. Her bottom lip was trembling, and Blaine wondered if her near-tears were for him, herself, or maybe both.  
  
Blaine nodded. “When I woke up in the hospital then, I was alone. My dad was at work and my mother was getting coffee. I was so scared.” Blaine tried not to think about those moments when he hadn’t known where he was or what was going on. The disorientation more than anything had terrified him.  
  
“But this time, my brother and Kurt were there when I woke up. And I don’t think there has been more than a few minutes during visiting hours that I’ve been alone since then,” he added wryly. “So… I do now, yeah.” He paused for a moment, considering. “And I think that makes things just a little bit better, you know? The only way to fight hate is with love, and I think we’ve both got plenty of people who love us, even if it isn’t always obvious.”  
  
Blaine thought then about Kurt and the sacrifices he’d made to be with Blaine while he recovered despite everything between them.  
  
He thought about Sebastian running to find him in that parking lot even though he could’ve gotten himself killed and skipping school to keep vigil over him.  
  
He thought about Cooper flying back to Ohio in the middle of filming an episode of his favorite TV show and never leaving his side for long.  
  
He thought of Burt, worrying over the boy who’d broken his son’s heart when he had his own health problems to contend with.  
  
He thought of Sam and Tina settling in next to him on his hospital bed, fitting around him like puzzle pieces, enveloping him in a blanket of safety and acceptance.  
  
He thought of the Warblers singing to him and dancing around his hospital room.  
  
He thought of Finn and Carole and their worried mother henning.  
  
He thought about his parents cutting their vacation short to get back to him.  
  
Blaine held out his hand, palm up, to Unique, who had a faraway look in her eye; Blaine hoped she was thinking about the people in her own life who loved her. She studied his hand for a moment before looking up at him. Her eyes were bright.  
  
“Mr. Anderson, you sound like an after school special,” she decided before slipping her hand into Blaine’s, careful to avoid the splint.  
  
Blaine squeezed her hand. “You can always talk to me, you know.”  
  
Unique squeezed back. “I know.”

\-----

Cooper and his parents returned later that afternoon, presenting Blaine with a new iPhone. As his family ensconced themselves in their now familiar positions on either side of Blaine’s bed, Blaine sent out a mass text informing his friends he had a phone once more before starting to go through the email and Facebook messages he’d missed in the last week and a half and replying to texts as they came in.  
  
New Directions arrived en masse shortly before dinner, and the Andersons made themselves scarce so Blaine could spend time with his overly enthusiastic teammates. Unique gave Blaine a small wave as she walked in. Brittany glued herself to one of Blaine’s sides, wrapping an arm around his bicep above the cast, while Tina took up a spot on his other side. Marley, Sugar, and Kitty sat at his feet while the boys settled into the chairs around his bed. Artie stationed himself at the foot of the bed, and Finn and Mr. Schue hovered by the doorway. Blaine nodded at Finn, who gave him a small smile in return.  
  
After everyone had given Blaine a hug or shoulder clap, the group went quiet and looked around at each other for a moment. Suspicious, Blaine raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Guys?”  
  
Marley grinned at him and squeezed his foot once before starting to sing.  
  
 _You and I must make a pact,  
We must bring salvation back  
Where there is love,  
I'll be there (I'll be there...) _  
  
Blaine felt something in his chest twinge at the song choice; though it was a Jackson 5 number, he was always going to have mixed feelings toward anything Michael Jackson after the previous year. But he appreciated the sentiment of the song more than he could say.  
  
The rest of the group joined in and Blaine’s stomach swooped a little as Sam took over the lead:  
  
 _I'll reach out my hand to you, I'll have faith in all you do  
Just call my name and I'll be there  
(I'll be there...) _  
  
Blaine watched his teammates—his  _friends_ —sway in their seats, smiling as they sang on, and couldn’t help but think of Kurt, Rachel, and Finn singing “Ben” in his bedroom before his eye surgery; the gentle, safe, and loving feelings from that seemed multiplied now with how many people had come to see him.  
  
 _And oh - I'll be there to comfort you,  
Build my world of dreams around you,  
I'm so glad that I found you  
I'll be there with a love that's strong  
I'll be your strength, I'll keep holding on -  
(Yes I will, yes I will) _  
  
By the time they got through the first chorus, Blaine was tearing up. He wiped at his eyes with his splinted hand, and Brittany tightened her hold on his arm in support while Tina rested her head on his shoulder. Looking around the room as the group sang, Blaine was struck by just how lucky he really was; like he’d told Unique early in the day, it was so easy to get caught up in all the hate, but then people did something really amazing to surprise you.  
  
He looked over at Unique to gauge her reaction; when their eyes met, her thoughtful, teary-eyed expression seemed to say,  _I hear you. I see this and I understand._  He smiled at her and she smiled, if a little tremulously, back.  
  
As the closing notes of the song faded from the air, Blaine took a steadying breath. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “That was amazing.” He looked around at each member of the group. “It means a lot to me that you guys all came.”  
  
“Of course we came, dude,” Sam said from his seat near Blaine’s hip.  “You’re our bro.”  
  
“We’re really glad you’re okay, Blaine,” Marley added. The others murmured their agreement. Blaine was still so touched by the gesture that he didn’t bother correcting them; he might not be okay yet, but with friends like this, he  _would_ be.

\-----

New Directions stayed until visiting hours ended. Blaine, while thankful for his friends’ visit, was exhausted and hurting. His knee had started throbbing around the halfway point of the visit, and his ribs had protested all the laughing he was doing as well as being accidentally jarred by others, and his head had started aching again.  
  
“They’re quite the handful, aren’t they?” the nurse—Julie, Blaine thought her name was—asked once the door shut behind Finn.  
  
“You have no idea,” Blaine agreed blearily.  
  
Julie laughed as she checked his chart. “They care about you.”  
  
Blaine nodded. Sometimes he was still amazed that that was true. For the longest time at McKinley, he’d just been there for Kurt; he’d been friends with Kurt’s friends, had been involved in Kurt’s activities, and made decisions based on what was best  _for_  Kurt, thinking that was what was best for them as a couple. Instead, he’d just lost himself and hadn’t realized it until it was too late.  
  
But this year, in the wake of a horrible, multi-heart-breaking mistake, he’d made his own friends, joined his own activities, and started making choices for himself. And in doing so, he’d found himself and, amazingly, found people who cared about him for who he was, not for who he was in relation to his boyfriend. It felt  _good_ , though sometimes overwhelming and more than a little humbling.  
  
“I guess I’m just lucky.”


	12. Chapter 12

Two and a half weeks after being attacked in the Westerville Starbucks parking lot, Blaine was discharged from the hospital. Reporters from several news stations and newspapers were waiting outside of Westerville Memorial when the Andersons wheeled Blaine out, but Charles and Cooper flanked him, doing their best to protect him from the overzealous journalists and answering “No comment” to every question thrown their way as Maria pushed him to their waiting car.

Once they arrived home, they settled Blaine into his bedroom and, after that, fell into something of a rhythm. Charles and Maria alternated days working from home so one of them was always around, and Cooper remained a constant presence. Blaine had physical therapy scheduled three days a week and a weekly meeting set up with Dr. Jeffreys, the therapist he’d seen for a few months after Sadie Hawkins.  
  
Sebastian came over most nights after Warbler rehearsal and stayed for a few hours before heading back to Dalton. While one or two of the other Warblers would sometimes join him, they were more likely to show up for a few hours on the weekend. Blaine’s parents were taken with Sebastian and regularly invited him to stay for dinner despite Cooper’s glowering; while Blaine’s parents didn’t know about Sebastian’s involvement in his eye injury, Cooper did—but Blaine had pleaded with him not to tell since he and Sebastian had mended fences.  
  
Sam and Tina showed up on Fridays with piles of homework and usually stayed through the weekend; before leaving the hospital, Blaine had contacted Ms. Pillsbury-Schuester about getting his work each week so he’d still be able graduate on time—he was going to spending a lot of time in bed anyway, so he might as well do something productive. During the weekends he was more likely to see other members of New Directions as well, since they had time to make the drive to Westerville.  
  
And then there was Kurt.  
  
Kurt was at his side as often as Blaine’s parents tolerated his presence; even when they’d been dating, the Andersons hadn’t been Kurt’s biggest fans, but now whichever parent was home would usually  _suggest_  that Kurt probably needed to get home shortly before dinner time. Kurt took the coolness in stride, and though it frustrated Blaine that Kurt should have to put up with it at all, he supposed it ended up being for the best since Sebastian usually arrived not long after Kurt departed.  
  
But when Kurt was there, he tried to be whatever Blaine needed, whether it was a sounding board or a study partner, a quiet presence or someone to hold him and keep him grounded when he felt like he might float away. Kurt was putting a lot of miles on his car, traveling between Lima and Westerville every other day, but he never complained about the gas.  
  
This… thing between him and Kurt was still fragile and new; Kurt had made his feelings known at the hospital, but Blaine had yet to respond either way. Truthfully, he still wasn’t sure  _what_  he wanted. Even just a few months before, Kurt wanting to get back together seemed nothing more than a pipe dream—one Blaine had wanted desperately.  
  
But his friends had helped him begin moving on; he made peace with his mistakes and forgave himself. Between glee, student council, the superhero club, and his friends, he’d been happier just before the attack than he could remember being in a long time. So, for the time being, he was content to fall back into just being best friends—without personal bubbles, apparently—with Kurt, and the other boy wasn’t pushing for more.  
  
Since Thanksgiving, they’d just seemed to be orbiting each other—a constant push and pull keeping one from falling into the other’s gravitational pull. Blaine supposed something would have to give eventually, but for now he had more than enough other things on his mind to worry about a relationship.  
  
And so, time moved on.

\-----

Five days after leaving the hospital, Blaine was dozing in bed, half-propped up by a stack of pillows and his laptop and an open textbook next to him, when his phone beeped. He started fully awake as Kurt looked up from the issue of  _Vogue_  he was reading next to him. Blaine reached for his phone, and his chest tightened momentarily at the reminder he’d forgotten to delete from his calendar.  
  
“Blaine?” Kurt asked, putting the magazine down with a frown. “What is it?”  
  
Blaine turned off the alarm and dropped his phone onto the mattress. “Today was supposed to be my NYADA audition.”  
  
Kurt’s concerned expression softened, and he gently pulled Blaine into his arms, careful to avoid jarring his healing ribs. “Oh sweetie.”  
  
Blaine bit his lip. He’d been in touch with NYADA and they’d offered him the opportunity to audition again for the spring semester without having to reapply due to his extenuating circumstances, but he hadn’t made a decision. He hadn’t told Kurt yet either, unsure of how to bring up the fact that he might not  _want_  to go to one of the best performing arts schools in the country after all.  
  
But there were acceptance letters sitting on his desk from OSU, UCLA, Berklee, and Tisch. He’d been surprised to find the pile of unopened letters waiting for him when he got home the previous week, but his family had just smiled proudly.  
  
It had occurred to him partway through the application process as he’d worked through both his applications and the breakup with Ms. Pillsbury that he’d fallen into the same patterns of trying to please everyone else—OSU for his parents, UCLA for Cooper, even NYADA for Kurt—which had led him to apply to a couple of schools solely for himself. Whatever choice he made, he’d decided as he looked through the letters his first night home, would be for himself and no one else. Surviving a (second) hate crime and spending two and a half weeks in the hospital had a way of bringing certain things into perspective.  
  
It also hadn’t been until he’d seen the letters—had been reminded that life had gone on outside of the hospital—that he’d remembered the audition. It had hurt like a physical blow to realize he  _couldn’t_  do it. He knew Kurt thought he was upset because NYADA was his first choice, but really, he lamented what the missed audition  _meant._  
  
He was barely moving around under his own power on crutches—just going down the hall to and from the bathroom left him exhausted and shaky—and his knee was constantly throbbing no matter how many painkillers he took. His headaches were still frequent and sitting up without support for than more than a few minutes strained his ribs.  
  
The longer he was laid up, the more  _frustrated_  he became with how helpless he was. And while he knew they meant well, his family, and even Kurt and Sebastian to a degree, were hovering when what Blaine wanted was some space to breathe. He’d become so accustomed to dealing with his problems on his own that having so many people constantly around was downright stifling.  
  
And, worst of all, he’d lost the outlets of stress relief that he relied upon.  
  
He’d taken up boxing after Sadie Hawkins as a means of self-defense and had ended up finding it cathartic. Whenever things became too much, he spent quality time with the heavy bag, letting anger and pain seep out through his fists until he could barely lift his arms.  
  
And when he couldn’t box, like after his eye injury, he’d also had music. He could express his feelings through song far more easily than through words, whether it was taking the stage in the auditorium at school or plunking at the keys of the piano in the library at home. Music helped him work through whatever he was feeling, giving voice to otherwise abstract emotions simmering just below the surface.  
  
But now Blaine had neither. Though he’d begun physical therapy, it would be a long time before he was able to get back into boxing. And with his ribs, Blaine couldn’t take deep enough breaths to sing, not to mention that with one arm in a cast and the other hand splinted, he couldn’t even play the piano. Without those outlets, Blaine was left feeling constantly raw, like an exposed nerve.  
  
Blaine swallowed hard at the sudden comprehension of  _just how much_  Roy, Nick, and Eric had taken from him, tears springing to his eyes.  
  
Kurt must’ve recognized the shift in emotion because he tightened his grip around Blaine protectively. “Hey, it’s okay.  You’ll get to audition in a few months, and all this will just have been a speed bump.”  
  
Blaine shut his eyes, a lump forming in the back of his throat. He  _wanted_  to tell Kurt what he was really upset about, but there were simply no words to encompass the feeling of losing his voice, even if it was just temporarily.  
  
And wasn’t that exactly the problem? It was all rather circular.  
  
So he just nodded and let himself sink into Kurt’s embrace, wishing those arms felt as safe now as they once had.

\-----

Some nights, Blaine dreamed of being cornered in a parking lot, only it was the Warblers surrounding him. They descended upon him, swinging bats and tire irons, and Blaine bled out red slushie as he screamed.  
  
Other nights, he dreamed of opening his front door only to find Kurt there. “Surprise!” he would say nervously before morphing into Sebastian, who hummed “I Want You Back” under his breath as he crossed the threshold into Blaine’s house.  
  
The best nights were the ones when Blaine didn’t dream at all.

\-----

Ten days after Blaine had come home, Sebastian knocked on the open door before stepping into the now-familiar bedroom. Blaine, who was propped up against his headboard, looked up from his laptop and pulled an earbud from his ear with a smile.  
  
“Hey,” he greeted.  
  
Sebastian nodded in return, moving to sit in the chair next to Blaine’s bed. “I ran into Hummel on the way in,” he said as he pulled his satchel over his shoulders and dropped it on the floor. “He was his usual friendly self.”  
  
Blaine shook his head in exasperation. “And I’m sure you were perfectly civil as always.”  
  
Sebastian gasped in faux indignation and clasped at his chest. “Mr. Anderson, you wound me.”  
  
Blaine snorted. “I’m sure.” He sighed. “You know you’re both important to me—”  
  
“Which is why neither of us has resorted to homicide,” Sebastian replied easily. Blaine gave him an unimpressed look, but Sebastian just shrugged. “Don’t look like you don’t think he’s capable of it.”  
  
“I think there’s been enough bloodshed,” Blaine said quietly.  
  
Shit. Sebastian knew that tone—the one that said Blaine was slipping back somewhere darker. He cleared his throat and nodded at Blaine’s laptop for a distraction. “So what are you up to?”  
  
Blaine blinked and looked down at the screen before turning the computer so Sebastian could see it.  
  
“You’re composing music?” Sebastian asked in surprise when he saw the program and lines of notes on the screen. Whatever he’d been expecting, that hadn’t been it.  
  
Blaine nodded a bit self-consciously. “It was my therapist’s idea. I needed an outlet, and I usually box or sing but, well,” he trailed off, glancing down at himself. “Those aren’t really options right now. But,” he said with a shrug, “music’s always helped me voice what I was feeling, I guess.”  
  
Sebastian remembered the day Blaine had returned to Dalton all those months ago, run down and depressed after the break up, and how he’d embodied “Dark Side” when he’d sung with the Warblers. He’d been visibly shaken after, like he’d been laid bare sharing those emotions with others, and the image had stuck with Sebastian long after. Sebastian loved music, but it had never had that deep resonance with him the way it seemed to for someone like Blaine, and he couldn’t help but admire that.  
  
“I started just working on arrangements,” Blaine went on, pulling Sebastian from his reverie. “Since I was used to doing that with the Warblers. But…”  
  
“You’re composing original songs?” Sebastian asked, impressed. Blaine nodded. “Can I hear one?”  
  
Blaine hesitated but finally nodded. “Okay. Just… it’s still rough. And it doesn’t have any lyrics yet.”  
  
Sebastian nodded impatiently, and Blaine handed him an earbud. He scooted closer to the bed and put the bud in, and Blaine hit play. It was a piano number that started slow, almost contemplative, before taking a more upbeat turn. But the upbeat was short-lived as the notes turned almost shrill for several bars. And then it shifted once more, taking a haunting, almost mournful, turn before building back to the more upbeat. The shrill bars made a return before the song closed out in a reprise of the more contemplative notes, bookending the piece.  
  
It was raw in a way that took Sebastian aback. Blaine had always seemed like the king of Top 40, but there was something more, something deeper and darker, here. When it was done, Sebastian pulled out the earpiece and looked at Blaine, who was biting his lip.  
  
“Like I said, it’s not done. But I just  _hear_ it, you know?”  
  
“You know,” he started as he puzzled through what he’d heard, trying to work out what sounded off to hom. “I think you’ve got several songs in there. Not just one. It’s like...” he trailed off, searching for the right words, “a story,” he decided. And then it hit him. “It’s  _your_  story.”  
  
Blaine’s eyes widened and he looked back at the screen, eyes scanning over the notes. “You’re right,” he breathed.  
  
Sebastian couldn’t help the smirk playing at his lips; Blaine never ceased to amaze him.  
  
“Blaine, you’re not composing a song. You’re composing an album.”

\-----

A month after Blaine was released from the hospital, Kurt arrived at the Anderson house. Cooper let him in, informing him that both of his parents were at work for the first time since Blaine had gotten home. Considering the effort they’d made for at least one of them to stay at Blaine’s side, that had to be a good sign.  
  
“I’m just going to go for coffee,” Cooper said with a wink. “And maybe a movie. Hell, maybe I’ll make it a double feature.”  
  
“Cooper,” Kurt said, causing the other man to pause as he pulled on a light jacket from the hall closet. “Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked. It was something he’d been wondering for a while now, especially with his barely concealed dislike of Sebastian.  
  
Cooper raised an eyebrow as he finished pulling his jacket on. “Because you care about my brother,” he said at last. “And he loves you.”  
  
Kurt frowned. “Sebastian cares about him. And Blaine, for some inexplicable reason, likes him too.”  
  
“Sebastian hurt Blaine.”  
  
“So did I,” Kurt pointed out. “Well,” he amended, “we hurt each other, I guess. But still. You have every reason to not want me near him.”  
  
Cooper gave him a considering look. “I won’t lie and say that I wasn’t mad at you for a long time, Kurt. Blaine and I talked a lot after you left for New York. He wasn’t handling it well.”  
  
Kurt bit his lip. He’d known as much, but hearing it from an outside party still stung. “Neither of us did, I think.”  
  
Cooper nodded. “Blaine isn’t the best at dealing with his emotions. It’s an Anderson trait, I think,” he added wryly. “And I know he made a bad choice that hurt you. Both of you. But Blaine’s my brother. Even when I don’t agree with him, I’m still going to be Team Blaine.”  
  
Kurt nodded with a weak smile. “I’d expect nothing less.”  
  
“Honestly Kurt, if this had been a few months ago, I probably wouldn’t want you near my bother. But he’s…” Cooper looked up at the ceiling as though it had the words he was searching for. “He’s grown. A lot,” he decided at last, looking back at Kurt. “He’s not the same guy you left behind in the fall.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Kurt had noticed the subtle changes in their brief conversations and heard about more second-hand from Finn and some of the other New Directions, but it wasn’t until he’d seen Blaine that he’d  _understood_  those changes. And in the last week few weeks, Kurt had started seeing that boy peeking through again during his visits. His weekly therapy visits seemed to be doing a lot of good as he healed.  
  
Cooper nodded as though Kurt had just confirmed something for him. “Blaine wants you here. And I think he finally trusts himself again, so I’m trusting him.”  
  
“He’s lucky to have you,” Kurt told him honestly. Cooper really had done a complete 180 since the previous spring.  
  
Cooper flashed him a grateful smile. “He’s in the library,” he said before heading out the door.  
  
Blaine had become much more mobile in the previous weeks, thanks to his physical therapy. Blaine was as likely to be in the living room or library downstairs as he was his bedroom when Kurt visited. The first time Kurt had come over and Blaine had answered the door with a huge grin on his face, Kurt thought he was dreaming. But there he’d been—and it had been a much better greeting than the wary, guarded one he’d received all those weeks ago when he’d first arrived. Blaine was off the crutches, and though he still limped when he became fatigued and walked more slowly, he was  _moving_.  
  
Kurt pulled off his jacket, hung it up in the closet, and slipped his shoes off before heading down the hall. When he reached the library—a decent-sized room with bookcases lining the walls, a fireplace, a few couches and tables, and (Blaine’s pride and joy) a Steinway he’d inherited from his grandfather when he was in middle school—he stopped short in the open doorway. Blaine was sitting at the piano, fingers running over the keys, and Kurt’s breath caught in his throat.  
  
Blaine must’ve heard him because he stopped playing—a soft, somehow familiar melody hanging on the air—and turned. His eyes lit up when he saw his guest.  
  
“Kurt, hi.”  
  
Kurt swallowed. “Hi yourself.” Blaine was sitting upright on the piano bench without any support. His arm no longer had a cast on it and his fingers weren’t splinted. “You look great,” he breathed.  
  
Blaine’s eyes crinkled up as he smiled and waved his cast-free arm. “Got it off yesterday. The doctor said my ribs are pretty much healed, too.” He turned so he was straddling the piano bench to face Kurt. “I’m still getting headaches, but they said they should be gone soon. My knee is a lot better, too.” He hesitated. “I’m going back to school next week.”  
  
Kurt’s eyes widened. “Blaine, that’s amazing.”  
  
Blaine smiled again, the look softer this time, and Kurt’s stomach swooped. But he forced the feeling aside; he wasn’t going to push Blaine into anything—not until Blaine was ready. But maybe… Maybe that time was coming soon, he thought as he looked Blaine over. The boy sitting in front of him, lively and grinning, was nearly unrecognizable as the one Kurt had sat vigil over in the hospital.  
  
“So, what were you playing?” Kurt asked for a change of subject as he stepped into the room.  
  
“Oh.” Blaine’s expression shut down. “Just an arrangement.”  
  
Kurt didn’t like that look. What could he possibly be playing that he wouldn’t want Kurt to hear? He loved listening to Blaine play, no matter what it was. He knew Blaine was composing some original music, but he’d already heard some of it despite Blaine’s hesitance to share rough cuts.  
  
“Blaine, what is it? What’s wrong?”  
  
They’d agreed they were going to be honest with each again—communication failure had been a huge reason they’d broken up in the first place. But if they couldn’t even be honest when they were just friends, what chance did they have of making their relationship work a second time around?  
  
Blaine pursed his lips and searched Kurt’s face for a long moment before sighing. “‘Teenage Dream,’” he said. “I was playing ‘Teenage Dream.’”  
  
Kurt’s insides twisted, sour memories threatening to surface at the unexpected reminder. And now that he thought about it, he did recognize the melody—it was different from both the version the Warblers sang the day they’d met and the one Blaine had sung at Callbacks, but it was still familiar.  
  
“I just,” Blaine tried to explain, “I don’t want that song only to have bitter memories. For either of us. So I’ve been working on a different arrangement.”  
  
Kurt blinked a couple of times. “Why? Why now?”  
  
Blaine shrugged uncomfortably “It was just something one of the guys said this weekend.”  
  
“New Directions?”  
  
“Warbler.”  
  
This time, Kurt felt his own expression shut down. He  _knew_  the Warblers were visiting Blaine on weekends—there was a reason he only came during the week, aside from only having to hide from one of Blaine’s parents then. Hell, he’d run into Sebastian more than once when the other boy had been on his way in to see Blaine while Kurt was leaving.  
  
He knew it was going on, the same way he knew Sam, Tina, and the New Directions were also visiting on the weekends. But there was just something about the idea that Blaine was talking to the Warblers about him after everything they’d done—and hadn’t apologized for—that had Kurt on edge. The Warblers had been a sore spot for him since the slushie incident, and seeing them regularly at the hospital had reopened the wound.  
  
“And what could a Warbler possibly have to say to get you to rearrange our song?” he asked coolly.  
  
“Kurt, it wasn’t—” Blaine cut himself off, looking at Kurt in surprise. “Are you  _mad_?”  
  
“No Blaine,” Kurt replied sarcastically. “What  _possible_  reason could I have for being upset that you’re spending more time with people who hurt you and abandoned you than with—” The love of your life. Your boyfriend. There were a lot of things Kurt wanted to say there, though he didn’t have the right. “Your best friend,” he settled on.  
  
Blaine frowned like he was trying to figure out where this conversation had gone wrong. And for some reason, that irritated Kurt further; he had no idea where all this anger was coming from, but now that the dam had broken, he couldn’t stop. And he didn’t want to either.  
  
“Kurt,” Blaine said slowly, “the Warblers reached out to me after Regionals and apologized. I let that go months ago.”  
  
“Even Sebastian,” Kurt added bitterly. “He’s  _always_  here.”  
  
“Yes, even Sebastian,” Blaine replied, brows furrowing. “I told you, he’s been a good friend to me since I almost transferred back to Dalton.”  
  
“Good  _friend_ ,” Kurt snorted. “Right.”  
  
Blaine shook his head, looking lost. “What is this about?”  
  
Kurt’s eyes narrowed. “Oh nothing. It’s great that the Warblers apologized and now you’re all best buds again and talking about  _our_  relationship.” Or lack thereof.  
  
“Kurt, we weren’t—”  
  
“But that slushie wasn’t even aimed at you, Blaine!”  
  
Blaine’s mouth snapped shut and Kurt plowed on; now that he’d started, he was going to say what he’d been sitting on for months. Honesty, right?  
  
“It was aimed at  _me_. I know you’ll always be Dalton’s golden boy, even when you’re at McKinley, but I was a Warbler too. Those guys were my friends, too. At least I thought so. But they meant to hit  _me_  with that slushie. And they never once apologized for that.” Kurt shook his head. “But you forgave them anyway. You let Sebastian back into your life even after what he did to me. I know you had it worse with surgery, but no one ever thought about how  _I_  felt.”  
  
Blaine’s mouth moved as Kurt’s tirade ended. “I had no idea—”  
  
“And that’s exactly the problem!” Kurt retorted. He realized he was shaking, so he crossed his arms across his chest.  
  
“Kurt, I’m sorry,” Blaine said, making to stand from the piano bench, but Kurt took a step back and Blaine sat back down with a sigh. “If I’d known…”  
  
“What?” Kurt demanded.  
  
“I would’ve talked to them!” Blaine replied, eyes flashing. Kurt took a measure of satisfaction from that; Blaine was slow to anger, but he recognized the signals that said he was getting there. “I would’ve—”  
  
“Made them apologize?” Kurt sneered. “No thanks, Blaine. I don’t want a pity apology that they don’t mean just so  _you’ll_  feel better.”  
  
“So what do you want me to do, Kurt? Stop seeing them?” Blaine demanded. “Because that’s not going to happen. They’re still my friends.”  
  
Kurt huffed at that. “Right.”  
  
Blaine’s eyes narrowed and something sharp flared up Kurt’s spine at the look. “You don’t have to like all my friends, Kurt. God knows I don’t like all of yours.”  
  
Kurt raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Excuse me?”  
  
“How do you think  _I_ felt when I found out that a bully who had threatened to  _kill_  you was stalking you, pretending to be me, over Valentine’s? And when that same bully tried to—” Blaine choked on the next words, but shook his head. “How do you think I felt when you wouldn’t talk to me after that and then went to see him in the hospital? Alone?”  
  
Kurt’s pursed his lips as he thought back to Karofsky. He’d felt so guilty and hurt after that he’d retreated into himself, not even talking to his dad. “I—”  
  
Blaine shook his head. “But I didn’t say anything because it was your choice to forgive him, Kurt. I never liked it, but I respected it.”  
  
“That’s right,” Kurt snapped defensively. “Blaine Anderson, always Mr. Respectful. Especially to other men.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“‘Respectful’ of assholes who want to steal you from your boyfriend,” Kurt scoffed. “And ‘respectful’ enough of the first guy to come along after your boyfriend left to fuck him.”  
  
Blaine reeled back, eyes wide, as the color drained from his face. For a long moment, they just stared at each other, Blaine stricken and Kurt triumphant. And then Blaine pushed himself to his feet and moved toward the door.  
  
“I can’t do this right now.”  
  
“That’s right, Blaine,” Kurt said as Blaine brushed past him. “Run away. Just like you do from all your problems.”  
  
Blaine froze halfway across the room. “Screw you, Kurt,” he said coldly.  
  
“No, Blaine. We always said we’d be honest with each other, didn’t we?” Kurt said. “And we were supposed to talk at Christmas, so I think we’re long overdue for some Truth Time, don’t you?”  
  
Blaine turned to look at Kurt then, and Kurt was momentarily startled by his icy expression. Blaine’s temper wasn’t usually cold; it was fiery and fierce while  _Kurt’s_  was frigid and biting. Kurt angered quickly and cut at whoever he was angry with while Blaine kept his feelings on lockdown until he was pushed too far. And, in his sudden anger, Kurt had wanted to push Blaine—and he’d pressed all the right buttons.  
  
“You want Truth Time?” Blaine said softly. “Then why don’t we talk about  _why_  I cheated on you.”  
  
Kurt recoiled, recognizing the danger there. But he’d gotten too far into this to back down now. “Enlighten me.”  
  
“You have no idea how lonely I was when you left, Kurt,” Blaine said, squaring his shoulders to look Kurt in the eye. Blaine’s gaze, while cold, was startlingly calm and sure; he’d made peace with his choices, Kurt realized.  
  
“You had the New Directions,” Kurt pointed out, though his voice was struggling to find any volume.  
  
Blaine shook his head. “Not at first. I was really only friends with your friends. And they graduated. With you. I spent an entire year doing everything for you.” There was no accusation in Blaine’s voice, just a matter-of-fact recitation of events. “And I didn’t even realize it until Sam and I won the student council election and you didn’t pick up your phone when I called.”  
  
Kurt watched on, mouth agape, as Blaine didn’t raise his voice, but there was something perilous under the cool words that made Kurt shiver.  
  
“We kept missing phone calls and Skype dates,” he said. “And when we did talk, every conversation was about New York.”  
  
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Kurt breathed.  
  
“I tried!” Blaine said, voice raising momentarily before he visibly collected himself. “But Rachel’s makeover and fashion gossip were apparently more important than what was going on here.” His gaze seemed to burrow right under Kurt’s skin as he spoke. “I thought I was losing you. After all, what did your small town Ohio boyfriend have that New York didn’t?”  
  
Kurt’s insides squirmed uncomfortably as he thought about the number of times he’d ignored Blaine’s calls or canceled their Skype dates to go out with his  _Vogue_  coworkers.  
  
 _“In a few months, you’re going to be gone,”_ Blaine had said nearly a year before. _“With this brand-new life, these brand-new friends, this brand-new everything, and I’m going to be right here. By myself.”_  
  
Oh.  
  
“And yes. I made a terrible choice that I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I was lonely and no one seemed to notice.” Blaine shook his head. “And then this guy messaged me on Facebook. It was just harmless flirting at first. Because it felt  _nice_  to be seen again. So when he invited me to his place, I went.”  
  
Kurt felt his breaths shortening in panic. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to know…  
  
“And the entire time,” Blaine went on, not letting Kurt cut him off this time, “it felt wrong. But maybe part of me thought we had been over for a while and I was just making it official.”  
  
Kurt felt sick at the very idea.  
  
“But after, I  _knew_  that what we had was real and that I’d just destroyed it. I went home and threw up until it felt like I was completely hollow and showered until my skin was raw.” Blaine laughed without any humor. “And then I booked the first flight to New York.”  
  
Kurt’s mouth had gone dry and his heart was aching, and yet somehow… Somehow it helped. Knowing. It had been so hard to try putting everything behind him without knowing  _why_  Blaine had betrayed him—betrayed  _them_. He’d understood at some level that Blaine had been lonely, but he’d been too afraid to listen to him to find out that maybe it was partly his fault too; Kurt wasn’t supposed to be to blame—he was the one who’d been cheated on.  
  
“Blaine—” Kurt started as the anger drained from him, leaving him empty.  
  
But Blaine shook his head and dropped his gaze. “I think you should go,” he said quietly, his shoulders sagging.  
  
“But—”  
  
Blaine turned away. “I’ve got a headache, Kurt. Please.”  
  
Kurt’s jaw trembled and only then did he realize that there were tears rolling down his face. “Okay,” he whispered.  
  
Blaine nodded and left the room without looking back. Kurt didn’t manage to pull his feet from the library floor until he heard Blaine’s bedroom door shut upstairs.


	13. Chapter 13

The days after the fight passed by in radio silence from Kurt’s end. During his session with Dr. Jeffreys, they talked through some of his apparent lingering resentment toward Kurt—for pushing him to transfer, for pulling away when he should have confided in Blaine, and for leaving even though Blaine had been the one to push him to go in the first place. Blaine hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding onto until he and Kurt were screaming at each other in the middle of the library, and that definitely wasn’t healthy.

“It’s natural that your emotions would be heightened after everything you’ve been through, Blaine,” Dr. Jeffreys said reasonably. “You lost your voice and your autonomy in the attack and you’re only just now getting them back.”  
   
“I guess it just scares me that I was holding onto so much without even realizing it,” Blaine replied, slumping in his chair. “I mean, there were definitely things I needed to say and did, but…” He shook his head. “It’s also scary that he was doing the same thing and I had no idea.”  
   
“Communication is a major part of a successful relationship,” Dr. Jeffreys said, crossing her legs. “And I know we’ve talked about previous failures in communication in your relationship.” Blaine nodded and the therapist offered him an understanding smile. “I think it’s important that you recognized it now. Plenty of people twice your age have the same issue and never figure out why their relationship fell apart despite loving the other person.”  
   
Blaine bit his lip. “I do. Love him,” he clarified at his therapist’s confused look. “But after this, I’m not sure…” He trailed off, uncomfortable with the implications of what he was about to say.  
   
“About what?”  
   
Blaine swallowed. “If I trust him. And then I feel awful for even thinking that,” he added in a hurry, “because I was the one who broke  _his_  trust by cheating on him. I shouldn’t have any right not to trust him after that.”  
   
Dr. Jeffreys shook her head. “Blaine, you have every right to feel whatever you’re feeling. Your emotions are yours. Just because you made a mistake doesn’t mean everyone else gets carte blanche. And if you don’t feel like you can trust Kurt, that’s a signal you need to listen to.”  
   
“But I don’t want to lose him.” If nothing else, Kurt was still his best friend and the months they’d gone not talking had been beyond awful; he couldn’t imagine going forward without having Kurt in his life at all.  
   
“Why would you lose him? Over the fight?”  
   
“I… don’t know,” Blaine admitted. “Maybe.” They’d both gone for maximum hurt during the fight, their words precision cuts.  
   
“You two have fought before,” Dr. Jeffreys pointed out. “And you made it out the other side. You even broke up and he still took a leave of absence from school to be with you.”  
   
“I—yeah, that’s true. I just…” Blaine shook his head. “I haven’t heard from him since.”  
   
“Have you considered that maybe he’s waiting for  _you_  to reach out to  _him_? If you were the one to ask him to leave, he might be waiting for you to set the pace.”  
   
Blaine considered that. It seemed like a Kurt thing to do. “I suppose.”  
   
“Blaine.” Blaine looked up to see Dr. Jeffreys smiling gently at him. “No one is expecting you to figure all this out overnight. You’re dealing with more now than most people do all their lives. And you shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything with Kurt you don’t feel comfortable with. If you need to rebuild the trust between each other, then maybe it’s best you just stay friends until you’re ready. If he loves you, he’ll understand.”  
   
Blaine nodded, recognizing the wisdom in the words. That he hadn’t been able to answer Kurt’s feelings at the hospital those weeks ago was probably the first indication that he wasn’t ready and might not be for a long time—if ever. He  _wanted_  to be, but… Well, Blaine wanted a lot of things. “You’re right.”  
   
Dr. Jeffreys nodded at that. “Now, tell me how you’re feeling about going back to school on Monday.”  
   
By the time Blaine got home, he was feeling calmer. He greeted Cooper and his parents quickly before heading up to his room. Since the fight, his family had been watching him warily, as though they were expecting him to shatter at any moment. And while the looks had gotten old quickly, Blaine supposed it made sense; tthey’d seen him in the wake of the breakup and he  _had_  been a wreck then. Cooper had even flown out for a weekend to no avail. But this time, he was all right. Or he would be.  
   
He settled down on his bed and pulled his phone out. He found Kurt’s number and typed out a quick text, sending it before he lost his nerve.  
   
 _I’m sorry. I just need some time to process._  
   
The reply was immediate.  _Me too. Take all the time you need._  
   
Blaine let out a relieved breath; Dr. Jeffreys had been right—it seemed Kurt  _had_ been waiting for him to make the first move.  _Thank you._  
   
 _I love you._  
   
Blaine bit his lip before replying,  _I love you too._  
 

\-----

   
The rest of the week passed by with relatively little drama. Blaine finished up the rest of the homework his friends had brought him; Sebastian visited in the evenings and they talked and laughed, though they deliberately avoided the Kurt Issue; he went to physical therapy and was cleared to go back to school, so long as he didn’t push himself—“No jumping on furniture in glee club, Blaine,” his PT admonished teasingly;  he worked on his original music; he looked through his college acceptance packets and made lists of the pros and cons of all the schools.  
   
But mostly he thought.  
   
Monday morning, Blaine woke up to a text from Kurt:  _Good luck today_. He smiled at the gesture, but didn’t reply; he didn’t think Kurt was expecting one anyway after promising to give Blaine the space he needed. His mother hugged him and his father clapped him on the shoulder once he’d showered and made his way downstairs to the kitchen.  
   
“You ready, Blainey?” Cooper asked, offering him a cup of coffee.  
   
Blaine shrugged, though his stomach was rolling with nerves. “As I’ll ever be,” he replied, taking a sip. And that was that.  
   
When Blaine arrived at McKinley, the glee club was waiting for him. They’d all come to see him on Saturday, each promising to have his back; apparently news had spread that he was coming back to school, though Blaine had no idea where that information could have come from.  
   
So when he walked through the parking lot to meet his friends, the way people went quiet and stared at him wasn’t a surprise, nor were the whispers once he’d passed. But that didn’t keep the hairs on the back of his neck from standing up or his pulse from racing nervously.  
   
Tina pulled him into a huge once he reached the group, followed by Sam, Brittany, and Marley.  
   
“It’s good to have you back, dude,” Sam said with a grin.  
   
“It hasn’t been the same without you,” Artie agreed, putting his hand out for a fist bump. Blaine grinned and met Artie’s fist with his own.  
   
“Consider us your own personal honor guard,” Ryder added, puffing out his chest.  
   
Jake smacked him lightly in the back of the head, but nodded at Blaine. “We’ve got you.”  
   
Blaine smiled at his gathered friends. “Thanks guys. It’s good to be back.”  
   
And it was more than just being a relief to no longer be cooped up at home, bed-ridden and on pain pills that made him loopy; in the last year, McKinley had morphed from being Kurt’s only to being his as well. He had a niche all of his own and these people had become his family. It felt good to be seen for  _him_  and not just what he could bring to a show choir competition or as the accessory of another person.  
   
Almost as soon as Blaine, flanked by New Directions, stepped into the school, Jacob Ben Israel descended upon him. Jake and Ryder stepped in front of Blaine while Tina gave his arm a comforting squeeze.  
   
“And here he comes, McKinley High’s own celebrity. Blaine Anderson, you’ve become the national poster child for bullying and hate crimes, and yet you’ve refused to give any interviews. What do you have to say—”  
   
“Back off, Jacob,” Sam warned, pushing at Blaine’s shoulder slightly to keep them moving.  
   
“Don’t even think about it, Jewfro,” Kitty hissed as they walked past.  
   
“But—”  
   
“Shut it, JBI,” Tina called as they left him in their wake.  
   
Blaine groaned as they stopped by his locker. “I guess it would’ve been too much to hope people wouldn’t be talking about me.”  
   
“Sorry bro,” Artie said with an apologetic shrug. “You’re kind of a big deal right now.”  
   
Blaine switched out the texts and notebooks he needed then allowed his friends to escort him to class. The classroom fell silent when he walked in though, as he stopped to hand in the rest of his makeup work to Mrs. Henderson, he heard the whispers starting up behind him. With a weary sigh, he joined Sam and Tina in their regular seats and did his best to ignore the not-so-hidden glances his classmates were sending him. It was going to be a long day.  
   
And the rest of the day passed by in much the same manner, with several of his friends walking with him between each class. It was eerie to walk into the cafeteria and have the entire room fall into a hush, but the lunch ladies greeted him happily and gave him extra helpings of tater tots as the buzz of student chatter slowly picked up again. He also found as he sat through his classes that with his makeup work, he’d actually ended up ahead, so his thoughts ended up wandering to college, his music, and Kurt.  
   
During glee, his friends pulled him into a fun. number in the choir room, though Blaine had to eventually retreat to a chair when his knee started aching. That didn’t keep the wide grin on his face as the New Directions jumped and danced around him, though; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to let loose and be so carefree.  
   
After school, he waved off Sam and Brittany and headed for the Lima Bean where he found Sebastian waiting for him. Blaine raised an eyebrow when Sebastian gave him a small wave.  
   
“What are you doing here?” he asked when he reached the table.  
   
Sebastian slid a cup over to his side of the table. “Medium drip for Mr. Anderson,” he said instead of answering.  
   
Blaine’s lips quirked up and he slid into the opposite seat. While he knew Sebastian frequented the Lima Bean despite its distance from Dalton, he was still touched the other boy would make the effort to meet him today. Sebastian saluted him with his cup. “How was the first day back?”  
   
Blaine took a sip of coffee and considered. “Tiring,” he finally decided on. “And a bit unsettling.”  
   
Sebastian inclined his head in a question and Blaine shrugged. “Everyone was staring and went quiet whenever I walked into a room.” He shook his head. “I hate when people are talking about me.”  
   
“You know that’s kind of unavoidable, Killer.”  
   
Blaine barely suppressed an eye roll. “Yes, I noticed. Thank you.”  
   
Blaine had seen the first national story with his name attached to it a couple of days after he’d started looking, and his face appearing on CNN as a roundtable threw his name around in relation to a bigger picture issue startled him; more than that, though, it made him feel like some kind of object. Something uncomfortable had settled in his gut as he realized that whether he liked it or not, his case had become about more than just him. He’d mostly avoided news channels after that.  
   
Sebastian threw his hands up in surrender. “Just a statement of fact.”  
   
Blaine shrugged and took another sip of coffee. When he looked up, Sebastian was studying him. Blaine tamped down on the urge to squirm in his seat; the other boy had a way of making Blaine feel like he was transparent. “What?”  
   
 “Your thinking is drowning out the horrible muzak.”  
   
Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t that be a good thing, then?”  
   
“Please, Anderson.”  
   
“I have a lot of things on my mind right now,” Blaine replied defensively.  
   
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “I’ve noticed,” he replied. And if anyone had, it would be Sebastian since he’d spent so much time with Blaine over the last month. There were certain things he didn’t feel comfortable talking to Sebastian about—mostly the fight with Kurt, considering he knew Sebastian’s opinion of his ex—but there were some things weighing on Blaine that he  _could_  talk about with him.  
   
“Have you decided where you’re going to college?”  
   
Sebastian looked momentarily startled by the question but nodded. “Columbia. I got in on early admission.”  
   
“Really?” He hadn’t expected Sebastian to be going to New York after graduation as well. He’d half been expecting maybe Harvard or Stanford. Blaine’s sudden visual of him and Kurt running into each other on the subway was simultaneously amusing and terrifying.  
   
Sebastian snorted. “I’m not sure if I should be offended by that.”  
   
Blaine shook his head. “No, I just didn’t know you wanted to go to New York.”  
   
“It’s my dad’s alma mater.” He smirked. “Maybe I’ll run into you while you’re at NYADA.”  
   
Insides twisting, Blaine shrugged and looked away.  
   
Sebastian frowned. “What? I thought you were going to audition for the spring.”  
   
“The option is open.”  
   
Sebastian seemed genuinely surprised as he realized, “But you don’t know if you want to go.”  
   
Blaine nodded and leaned back in his chair. “It was Kurt’s dream, but…” He bit his lip as he considered. “I think that might just be it—just another thing I wanted because of Kurt.”  
   
“I saw those acceptance letters on your desk. You have other options.”  
   
Blaine nodded thoughtfully.  
   
Sebastian gave him a curious look. “So I guess the real question is, what do  _you_  want, Blaine?”  
 

\-----

   
Blaine texted Kurt about meeting on Saturday, and they ended up on neutral ground, watching each other warily over coffee cups at a corner table in the Lima Bean. Blaine hated the tension in the air between them, especially when they’d fallen so comfortably back in with each other while he was recovering, but he supposed it had been underlying since that fateful night in Bryant Park. Or maybe even before that, considering the issues left hanging between them.  
   
“How was your week?” Blaine asked finally, wincing at the inanity of the comment.  
   
Kurt shrugged. “I helped my dad in the shop a lot. He’s trying to do too much on his own, and it had been a while since I could work on a car.” He hesitated. “How was your first week back?”  
   
“Surprisingly okay,” Blaine replied. “Lots of stares and whispering, but the glee club was always there.”  
   
Kurt nodded, though his eyes seemed far away. “That’s good.”  
   
They fell silent again, and Blaine thought back to his meeting with Dr. Jeffreys;  _if he loves you, he’ll understand._  Blaine took a breath and Kurt tensed in anticipation.  
   
“I committed to a college.”  
   
Kurt blinked a couple of times, as though he didn’t understand. “But what about NYADA?” he asked.  
   
Blaine shrugged. “It would be an amazing opportunity, but I don’t think it’s for me.” He was pretty sure he’d known it all along, but it had taken a while to accept it.  
   
“But—”  
   
“I sent in my commitment to Tisch on Wednesday, Kurt.”  
   
“NYU?” Kurt breathed.  
   
Blaine nodded. “I love musical theater and acting, but working on my own music has made me realize that that’s what I want to focus on—singing and songwriting. It…” He trailed off as he cast about for the right words to make Kurt understand; this choice wasn’t about him, it was about what Blaine  _needed_. “It’s fulfilling,” he said finally. “In a way nothing else is for me.” It had kept him sane in the wake of everything—a true vocation.  
   
Kurt studied him for a long moment. “You really have changed,” he murmured at last.  
   
Blaine blinked, not sure how to take that. He wasn’t even sure Kurt had meant to say it out loud. “Kurt?”  
   
But Kurt shook his head with a small, bittersweet smile. “It’s good, Blaine. You’ll be amazing there.”  
   
Blaine nodded, still slightly uncertain but still feeling tension draining from his shoulders. “Thank you.”  
   
They fell quiet again, but this time it was Kurt who broke the stalemate. “I thought a lot about what you said last week.”  
   
Blaine flinched. “Kurt—”  
   
Kurt cut him off with a shake of his head. “No, I’m glad you said what you did. It hurt, but I needed to know. And it made me realize I wasn’t being fair to you.” He gave a humorless laugh. “That seems to be a pattern, doesn’t it?”  
   
“Kurt, I’m a big boy. I can make my own decisions,” Blaine said, something about Kurt’s tone sitting uneasily in his chest.  
   
“I know,” Kurt replied quickly. “I just— I know I get self-absorbed, and it wasn’t fair to keep ignoring your calls or canceling our Skype dates. I’m sorry. For whatever it’s worth six months later.”  
   
Blaine swallowed, the unexpected words making his chest clench. “It’s worth a lot, thank you,” he said quietly. “But that doesn’t change—”  
   
“I know.”  
   
Blaine bit his lip as he considered his next words carefully. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, too,” he started. “And talking with Dr. Jeffreys.” Kurt nodded for him to continue. “Kurt, I love you and the thought of losing you scares me more than anything.”  
   
“Me too,” Kurt whispered.  
   
“But I’m not ready to be with you. Not right now.” The  _maybe not ever_  was left unspoken but judging from Kurt’s expression, he heard it anyway. “You’re still my best friend, Kurt. And I want you in my life. But right now, that’s all I think I can handle.”  
   
“I—” Kurt didn’t seem to know how to respond.  
   
“I’m working on trusting again.”  
   
Kurt looked up at that. “Trusting what?” he asked in a small voice.  
   
“Myself,” Blaine admitted. “You. Us.”  
   
Kurt took a shuddering breath at that. “You don’t trust me?”  
   
Every instinct in Blaine was telling him to back down, to comfort Kurt, to make this  _better_  right now. But he knew he would only be falling into old patterns if he did that; nothing would ever change and that wasn’t the point of this.  
   
“Not completely, no,” Blaine replied. “You broke a lot of promises, Kurt.” Kurt opened his mouth but Blaine cut him off, needing to make sure he was heard this time. “But I let it happen, and that’s on me as much as it is on you.” He gave Kurt a sad smile. “We’re really good at hurting each other.”  
   
Kurt sniffed. “But we’re really good at loving each other, too.”  
   
Blaine shut his eyes. “Yeah, we are.”  
   
“So where do we go from here?” Kurt asked quietly.  
   
Blaine took a steadying breath and opened his eyes to meet Kurt’s gaze. “Like I said, I don’t want to lose my best friend.”  
   
“You won’t,” Kurt said immediately, reaching out. He stroked the back of Blaine’s hand a few times before coming back to himself. He pulled back and flashed an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”  
   
“It’s okay.” They’d always had a weird sense of boundaries, even before they’d started dating. Blaine took a breath. “You have no idea how much it means to me that you’ve been here with me. During all of this.” He swallowed. “But I think I just need some space to figure things out for now. To figure out who I am and what I want. And then maybe…” He trailed off, watching the subtle shift of Kurt’s expressions.  
   
“Maybe,” Kurt echoed, almost to himself. He shut his eyes for a moment before turning a steadier look on Blaine then. “So, friends?”  
   
“Best friends,” Blaine agreed, doing his best to ignore the ache in his chest.  
 

\-----

   
Sunday night, Blaine was coming down the stairs when he heard his parents speaking in raised voices. He frowned, peering around a corner to see them standing in the middle of the kitchen.  
   
“No,” his mother was saying into the phone. “Blaine is not available for an interview.”  
   
Blaine’s stomach dropped.  
   
“Maria—”  
   
His mother waved his father off as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. “My son is just trying to move past this and graduate from high school,” she said coolly. Pause. “No,” she repeated firmly. “It’s the same thing we told CNN, MSNBC, and Fox News; he’s not available.” She pursed her lips. “I know the  _New York Times_  isn’t like those cable networks…”  
   
Blaine’s eyes widened. He knew he was getting requests for interviews and that his parents kept turning them down, probably in an attempt to shield Blaine from media backlash, but he was still surprised those big outlets would be interested in  _him_. He’d thought the interest might have faded by now or be focused at a more local level.  
   
But then he remembered what Cooper had said those weeks ago in the hospital:  _"Hate crimes are a big issue right now. And you're the family friend of a Congressman who is well-known for his stance in favor of gay rights."_  
   
These types of crimes happened every day, but only a handful ever gained national prominence, and Blaine just happened to know the right people for that.  
   
The entire week, the students at McKinley had been staring at him, some like they expected him to fall apart while others seemed like they were waiting for him to sprout a second head. He hated being talked about, but he wasn’t going to be able to avoid the gossip forever; maybe it would help if he told  _someone_ his side of the story—to control the conversation as it were.  
   
And the  _New York Times_  would be a much fairer outlet than any of the biased cable networks.  
   
“Mom,” he said, making his decision as he stepped into the kitchen.  
   
His parents both whirled around to see him. “Blaine!” his mother said in surprise, pulling the phone from her ear. “Honey, this is—”  
   
“I want to do it.”  
   
She blinked at him. “What?”  
   
“I want to do the interview,” he repeated, a sense of  _rightness_  settling in his gut. “I want to tell my side of the story.”  
   
“Blaine—” his father started with a frown, but Blaine shook his head.  
   
“I know you’re trying to protect me, and I appreciate it. But I can’t keep hiding from this.”  
   
“Sweetie, you don’t have to,” Maria said, watching him in concern.  
   
“I know,” Blaine replied, sticking his hands in his pockets. “But just the one?”  
   
“Blaine—”  
   
“He’s technically an adult, Maria,” Charles said softly, putting a hand on his wife’s arm. “We can’t stop him if he wants to do it.”  
   
“We just want to protect you, Blaine. It’s an ugly world with uglier people out there,” Maria told him.  
   
“I think I know that better than most, Mom.” Blaine’s voice was bitterer than he meant it to be, but it was true. And he was leaving for New York in a few months anyway; his parents wouldn’t be able to protect him then, so maybe it was time he started protecting himself. And that started with him standing on his own two feet and facing his demons head on.  
   
“Oh honey.” Maria pulled Blaine into a hug. “Are you sure?”  
   
Blaine nodded as his mother pulled away. He gave her a small smile and nodded toward the phone. “So are you going to take that?”  
   
Maria looked at the phone and started. “Right.” She put it back to her ear. “Mr. Davies, are you still there? Yes, Blaine says he’ll do the interview.”  
   
Blaine just hoped he wasn’t making things worse. _  
_


	14. Chapter 14

**_Not just a victim: Hate crime survivor Blaine Anderson speaks out for the first time_ **   
_By Richard Davies_   
_Sunday, May 19, 2013_

_Blaine Anderson looks like a regular, if well-dressed, high school student. The 18-year-old’s Brooks Brothers clothes and slicked back hair give him an old Hollywood style, and his easy smile adds to his charm. He also has a penchant for bowties and a coffee addiction._   
  
_A senior at William McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio, he has an impressive resume, including student council president, lead soloist of the New Directions glee club, co-captain of the cheerleading squad, credits in school productions of “West Side Story” (Tony) and “Grease” (Teen Angel), and president of several other clubs. In his spare time, he also boxes and has begun composing his own music. And he does all of this while keeping up a valedictorian-esque GPA._   
  
_These are the things that Mr. Anderson wants to define him. But many people, from neighbors and classmates to the national media, only seem interested in his sexual orientation._   
  
_“I’ve been out since I was 13,” he says. “I came out the summer before my freshman year of high school, but I’d known for longer.”_   
  
_But being an out teen in a conservative community isn’t easy, something Mr. Anderson knows better than most._   
  
_On the evening of March 18, 2013, Mr. Anderson was attacked outside a coffee shop in his hometown of Westerville, a suburb of Columbus. He was in a coma for three days, suffering from fractured ribs and fingers, a broken arm and torn ligaments in his knee. But it was the swelling in his brain that worried doctors most. After waking up despite an uncertain prognosis, Mr. Anderson spent two and a half weeks in the hospital and another month recovering at home before he was able to return to school._   
  
_“I don’t remember it,” Mr. Anderson says of the attack that garnered national attention. “I have a few bits and pieces, but I don’t know if they’re actual memories or just my subconscious trying to fill in what I was told happened.”_   
  
_According to police records, the confrontation went something like this: Mr. Anderson departed the coffee ship around closing time. He dialed a friend’s phone on his way to his car. Three men – Roy Matthews, Nick Hewitt, and Eric Mitchell, all of Westerville – cornered him in the parking lot and assaulted him with a crowbar and baseball bat while hurling slurs about his orientation. Mr. Anderson’s friend, Sebastian Smythe, heard the attack over the phone and called 9-1-1._   
  
_“They told me that Sebastian saved my life by finding me when he did,” Mr.  Anderson says, sounding tired but grateful. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”_   
  
_While tragic, Mr. Anderson’s case seemed destined to become just another statistic about hate crimes in America, but it captured the nation’s attention when it was revealed that he was a family friend of Congressman Burt Hummel, who is well-known for his pro-gay rights stance. Congressman Hummel has an out son, Kurt, who Mr. Anderson dated and remains friends with._   
  
_“Kurt met Blaine at a rough time in his life,” Congressman Hummel reflects. “He was being bullied in school and I’d just had a health scare. I was losing him, but then Blaine came along and made him smile again. He and Blaine became friends, and I started getting my kid back. When they started dating, Kurt was happier than I’d ever seen him, and Blaine became like another son._   
  
_“A big reason I ran for office was to make life easier for kids like Kurt and Blaine,” the Congressman adds. “They’re so young and have been through so much. I’ve never met braver people. They’re my heroes.”_   
  
_Outside of political ramifications, the case is also notable because this was not Mr. Anderson’s first run-in with Mr. Matthews, Mr. Hewitt, and Mr. Mitchell._   
  
_“My freshman year, I attended Westerville High,” Mr. Anderson says. “There was a Sadie Hawkins dance and I asked a friend, the only other out guy in school. We had fun, but when we were waiting for his dad to pick us up, these three guys attacked us. I don’t remember much about that night either, but I spent a week in the hospital after.”_   
  
_Mr. Anderson also never saw his friend again. “I was told not to get in touch with him,” he remembers, his voice taking on a slightly bitter tone. “I think that was the worst part, losing the connection to the only person I knew who understood what I was going through._   
  
_“My family is supportive,” he hastens to add, “but there are some things you can really only get if you’ve experienced it. Being on the other side of that much hate just for being who you are is one of them.” Especially, he adds, when you’re only 14 years old._   
  
_It was that hate that prompted Mr. Anderson to seek out a safe haven after his recovery. “I transferred to Dalton [Academy, a private all-boys school in Westerville] for their zero tolerance policy, but I had to repeat my freshman year because I’d missed so much school.”_   
  
_Charges were never filed due to what the Andersons’ lawyer deemed insufficient proof. However, the statute of limitations on the alleged assault has not run out, and two officers in the Westerville Police Department, on the condition of anonymity, expressed a wish to charge the three men for both attacks._   
  
_Mr. Matthews, Mr. Hewitt, and Mr. Mitchell, however, have since pled guilty to felony assault for the March 2013 incident. They will each serve ten years in prison, accepting a reduced sentence in exchange for the prosecution dropping charges for the previous assault._   
  
_Fast forward four years and it’s déjà vu. “It’s terrifying,” Mr. Anderson tells me, his eyes going distant for a moment. “Knowing that people can hate you so much for something you can’t control.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to let fear control my life, but sometimes I wake up from a nightmare and it’s all there is. That’s going to be a part of me for the rest of my life.”_   
  
_It is said that courage is not being unafraid, but acting in spite of that fear. And that definition seems to fit Blaine Anderson to a T. When asked why he decided to give this interview after turning down requests from numerous other outlets, he replies, “I don’t want to be a victim anymore. I hear my name on TV or see it in the newspaper and it’s all about how I’m the victim of a hate crime. And yeah, that’s true. But there’s more to me than that. I don’t want two horrible nights to always define who I am.”_   
  
_And to that effect, Mr. Anderson is on track to graduate in June and will attend Tisch School of the Arts at New York University this fall. “I want to be a performer,” he says. “Music is my passion. It kept me sane while I was recovering and it gives me an outlet when everything becomes too much. It’s how I remind myself that it gets better,” he adds with a wry smile._   
  
_Expect to hear the name Blaine Anderson again in a few short years; after all, he is not a victim, but a true survivor._

 

 

 

\-----

The week after the article appeared was filled with more requests for interviews, though Blaine turned them all down, as well as more staring from his classmates as McKinley. He forced himself to shrug it off since he’d at least told his side of the story; he couldn’t do more than that. Meanwhile, the glee club continued to stay by his side between classes and at lunch. He met Sebastian for coffee after school a couple of days and talked with Kurt on the phone each night. Blaine wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting in the wake of the interview, but it wasn’t the status quo.  
  
Friday evening, Blaine was reading his Kindle in the living room when the doorbell rang. He frowned, not expecting Kurt for at least another half hour since he had Friday night dinner before coming over. His parents had gone out for a late dinner and Cooper had flown back to LA earlier in the week, unable to put off filming his next commercial any longer, though he promised to be back for Blaine’s graduation in a few weeks.  
  
When Blaine opened the door, it took his brain a moment to register what he was seeing.  
  
“Josh?” he nearly squeaked. The man on the front step was older, several inches taller, broader in the shoulders, thinner in the cheeks, and had slightly longer hair than Blaine remembered, but those kind green eyes were unmistakable.  
  
“Hi Blaine,” he said with a hesitant smile. His voice was a bit deeper but still familiar. “I’m sorry to just drop by like this, but I, uh, saw the  _Times_  and…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly—a habit Blaine remembered from the few months they’d had together at Westerville High. “Can you say something?”  
  
Blaine snapped out of his shocked staring and shook himself. “Sorry,” he apologized. He realized his pulse was racing. “I’m just really surprised to see you. Do you, uh, want to come in?”  
  
Josh nodded gratefully. “Thanks,” he said, stepping inside.  
  
Blaine shut the door and took a calming breath, willing his heartbeat to slow. He turned around and was half-surprised to see Josh standing in the foyer, glancing around with a sense of nostalgia. This wasn’t a dream after all.  
  
“It hasn’t changed much,” Josh said softly.  
  
Blaine swallowed. “No, not really. My mom likes the timeless look.” Timeless and like it had come out of a catalog, anyway.  
  
Josh nodded and glanced back at Blaine. “Am I interrupting anything? I didn’t even think—”  
  
Blaine shook his head quickly. “No, I was just reading.”  
  
Josh looked relieved at that. “Good. Not that I interrupted your book,” he amended, eyes widening. “But that… Ah, shit.”  
  
But Blaine laughed; this was still the same Josh he’d known and maybe had a bit of a crush on. He waved for the other boy to follow him and headed for the living room. They settled down on the couch, keeping space between them as they twisted in their seats to face each other.  
  
“I don’t even know what to say,” Blaine said at last. “I thought I’d never see you again. After.”  
  
Josh bit his lip. “I saw what happened.” Blaine’s stomach dropped. “I was home for Spring Break in March and saw the news.”  
  
Blaine shut his eyes, collecting himself. He wondered, not for the first time, just how many people he’d known had heard. He opened his eyes again and nodded.  
  
“I wanted to visit you before I left. At the hospital.”  
  
Blaine frowned. “Why didn’t you?”  
  
Josh sank back into the sofa cushion. “Because I’m a coward, I guess,” he said with a mirthless laugh. “When I first heard that Eric’s gang was involved, I was just… sick. Literally. Those memories came back and…” He shook his head, gaze going distant for a moment before he came back to himself. “It had been so long since we’d seen each other and I— I didn’t know if you’d even  _want_  to see me.”  
  
Blaine’s eyes widened. “Of course I would.” He’d wondered about Josh so many times since that night and had hoped he was doing okay.  
  
Josh gave him a sad smile. “You had a lot of people with you, anyway. I didn’t really fit into it— Your life. Not anymore.”  
  
“Josh—”  
  
“But that’s just an excuse,” Josh went on, ignoring Blaine’s interruption. “My parents were never supportive of my sexuality, you know.”  
  
Blaine nodded, wondering where this was going. “I remember.”  
  
They’d rarely spent time at Josh’s house because his parents would always throw Blaine dirty looks, like he was contaminating their house—and their son, even though Josh had come out before he’d even met Blaine.  
  
“I was staying with them over break and when they heard, they were just… awful,” Josh said. “They said horrible things and I couldn’t bring myself to go to the hospital in case they found out.”  
  
Blaine clenched his jaw. It wasn’t Josh’s fault that his parents probably thought Blaine had gotten what he deserved. He’d been the one to ask Josh to the Sadie Hawkins dance, so that had clearly been his fault too. He’d heard all of that and more over the years; it wasn’t new, but that didn’t stop it from stinging.  
  
“All I could do,” Josh continued, “was call the cops with a tip about Eric and the dance.”  
  
Blaine’s jaw dropped as that registered. “Wait,  _you_  sent in that anonymous tip?”  
  
Josh nodded and Blaine really wanted to hug him for that, but he forced himself to sit still; they were practically strangers after four years, and Andersons were taught to behave properly (even if Cooper didn’t abide by the lessons).  
  
“Thank you,” he whispered instead. “They arrested him before I woke up. My friend Sebastian identified him.”  
  
“The one who was on the phone?”  
  
Blaine supposed he shouldn’t be surprised when people knew details of the case anymore with the media coverage. “Yeah. I don’t really remember it, so probably couldn’t have identified him on my own.”  
  
“You really don’t remember?”  
  
Blaine shook his head. “Flashes here and there, but my last clear memory was from the day before.”  
  
“Blaine, I’m so sorry.”  
  
Blaine raised an eyebrow. “It’s not your fault.”  
  
Josh swallowed and looked away. “It kind of is, though.”  
  
Blaine’s brows furrowed. “I don’t understand.”  
  
“I remember the night of the dance. I mean, I had a concussion and a broken wrist, but I remember  _them_. I remember the sounds and—” He cut himself off sharply and Blaine felt his stomach churn. His memories of that night were hazy at best, but he remembered enough for nightmares.  
  
“When the police asked for my statement that night,” Josh said after a moment, “my dad told me not to tell. He told me to say that I didn’t know who had done it.”  
  
Blaine’s insides twisted. “No.”  
  
Josh shut his eyes. “I was out of it from the concussion and I was only 15, Blaine,” he said, opening his eyes again in a plea for Blaine to understand. “So I did. I said I didn’t remember who had attacked us, and the police ended up with no suspects. Roy, Nick, and Eric got away with it because I didn’t say anything. And I was at a Catholic school in Columbus by the end of the week, away from it. And from you.”  
  
Blaine felt nauseous at the revelation. “So when the lawyer said there wasn’t enough evidence…”  
  
“It’s my fault.”  
  
“Oh.  _God_.” After all this time, it wasn’t actually a homophobic lawyer who kept anything from happening; Blaine wasn’t sure what to do with that information—it changed a lot.  
  
“Blaine, I’m  _so_  sorry.”  
  
Blaine looked back up at Josh, who had tears in his eyes, and blinked. He thought that Blaine—  
  
“No, Josh. It’s not your fault,” he assured him. “That—” He stopped and took a shaky breath. “That’s on your father. I could never blame you for listening to him,  _especially_  on a night like that.”  
  
It was Mr. Sanders’ fault those three men had still been on the streets of Westerville. He hadn’t wanted to be dragged into a legal—and possible media—battle that would publicly out his son. And in small-town Ohio, how likely was it that anyone in power would be sympathetic to two gay boys over three varsity football players? It could have become a circus that he’d likely wanted nothing to do with, especially when he had wanted a straight son in the first place.  
  
Yes, Blaine understood that  _very_  well. But that wasn’t on Josh.  
  
“I don’t blame you.” He reached out and took Josh’s hand—there were calluses he didn’t remember from when they were younger—and squeezed reassuringly. “I just missed my friend. So much.”  
  
“Me too,” Josh said quietly. “When I saw that interview and what you said about the dance… Well, I came home as soon as I could. I had to see you, my parents be damned.”  
  
Blaine swallowed, a thought occurring to him. Had it been Josh’s parents who hadn’t wanted them to stay in touch? He’d assumed it was probably some kind of agreement between both their parents, but who knew? Blaine’s own parents still weren’t completely comfortable with his sexuality, but they were  _trying_ , which was more than the Sanders family could say. They’d no doubt be horrified if they knew where their son was.  
  
“I’m glad you did,” Blaine told him.  
  
Josh gave him a watery smile and Blaine pulled him into a hug. He shut his eyes as he felt the other boy’s arms tighten around him and sank further into the embrace. Something clicked into place then, closing a wound he hadn’t realized was still gaping. When they pulled apart, Blaine had tears in his eyes as well.  
  
“Well, aren’t we a pair?” Josh said, lifting an eyebrow.  
  
Blaine let out a wet laugh. “We really are.” He wiped at his eyes then said, “So how long can you stay? We’ve got four years to catch up on.”  
  
Blaine learned that Josh was a sophomore at Bowling Green and was majoring in political science. He didn’t come home often on his breaks, preferring to stay at school and work. He’d finished up high school at that Catholic school, still gay despite the nuns’ best efforts. He’d seen a few guys since starting college but there wasn’t anyone serious. Blaine, in turn, told him about Dalton and the Warblers, about transferring to McKinley and the New Directions. And about Kurt.  
  
Blaine was describing the Secret Society of Superheroes, much to Josh’s amusement, when the doorbell rang. Blaine started and glanced down at his watch in surprise; they’d been talking for the last hour.  
  
“I forgot Kurt was coming over,” Blaine said with an apologetic look at Josh. He’d been so shocked to see the other boy after all this time that all other thoughts had flown from his mind.  
  
“I thought you said you didn’t have any plans,” Josh said with a wink.  
  
Blaine rolled his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet and headed down the hall, Josh following. “It’s not like that. We broke up in October.”  
  
“And he’s coming over on a Friday night as a friend…?” Josh teased with smirk.  
  
Blaine blushed but didn’t rise to the bait. “He has an early flight out of Columbus. It made more sense for him to crash here tonight than drive all the way from Lima in the morning.”  
  
Between them, Burt and Blaine had managed to convince Kurt to take summer classes at NYADA to start making up for the credit he’d lost during his leave of absence. Blaine was well on his way to recovery and would be in New York at the end of the summer anyway, and Burt’s health looked good according to his doctors. Kurt had finally given in and was heading back to for classes starting on Monday, though he was planning to come back for graduation.  
  
Blaine opened the door to see Kurt, suitcase in hand, on the porch. Kurt smiled when he saw Blaine and opened his mouth to say something in greeting, but then his gaze slid over Blaine’s shoulder to Josh. He glanced back at Blaine then at Josh again and his expression shuttered.  
  
“I didn’t realize you were having company tonight,” he said tightly.  
  
Blaine frowned for a long moment before realizing what Kurt must be thinking. Blaine had said he didn’t want a relationship and then had another guy in his house…  
  
“Kurt, it’s not what—”  
  
“No Blaine, it’s fine. I can just stay in a hotel tonight.”  
  
Blaine let out a frustrated huff as Kurt turned toward the steps. “Kurt, Josh is an old friend of mine from Westerville High.”  
  
He could see the moment that Kurt made the connection, the tension leaving his shoulders as he whirled around, eyes wide. He looked between Blaine and Josh again before settling his gaze on Blaine.  
  
“You mean he’s—”  
  
Blaine nodded in confirmation. “Yeah.”  
  
Kurt’s lips formed a silent O as Josh stepped forward and extended a hand. “Josh Sanders. It’s nice to meet you.”  
  
Kurt blinked and took his hand. “Kurt Hummel.”  
  
“Blaine’s told me a lot about you.”  
  
“I wish I could say the same,” Kurt replied, slightly breathless from the surprise, as they released the handshake.  
  
Though Kurt had tried to get him to open up about it, Blaine had never been able to tell him much about the night of Sadie Hawkins, partly because he didn’t remember a lot of it and partly because it was just too painful to dwell on; the latter was the reason he hadn’t said much more about Josh other than that he existed and that Blaine hadn’t seen him since the dance.  
  
Josh didn’t seem offended, though. “To be fair, I heard it all in the last hour, but it was all good, I swear!” he said with an easy smile.  
  
“I don’t feel at such a disadvantage then,” Kurt said, lips twitching.  
  
Blaine shook his head with a smile of his own. “Come in, Kurt. You’re staying in Cooper’s room tonight.”  
  
Kurt’s expression fell momentarily, but he recovered quickly. “Will I find any blackmail material on your brother?”  
  
Blaine snorted and moved aside so Kurt could enter.  
  
“I should probably go,” Josh said, glancing at his watch as Kurt put his suitcase down.  
  
Blaine frowned; was Josh feeling uncomfortable with Blaine’s ex there? “You don’t have to.”  
  
“He’s right. I’d love to hear stories about Blaine before Dalton,” Kurt added with a mischievous glint in his eye.  
  
“It’s getting late and I should really go see my parents,” Josh said apologetically. “But text me? We should hang out again before I go back.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Blaine asked, thinking of Josh’s parents.  
  
“I think it’s time to stop being afraid of my parents,” Josh replied with a nod. “If they can’t accept me by now, then I don’t need them poisoning my life.”  
  
“Josh—”  
  
The other boy gave Blaine a gentle smile. “Seeing you… Well, it makes me want to be brave too, Blaine.”  
  
Blaine’s eyes widened and he blushed as Josh pulled him into a quick hug. Then Josh was saying something to Kurt and walking out the door to his car. He waved once more before sliding in behind the wheel. Blaine waved back on autopilot, Josh’s words still echoing in his mind, and he shut the door as Josh pulled out of the driveway.  
  
“Blaine?” Blaine snapped out of his reverie to see Kurt looking at him in concern. “Are you all right?”  
  
“I— Yeah,” Blaine said, realizing in surprise that he actually meant it. “I think I am.”


	15. Chapter 15

Sitting at the piano, Blaine looked out over the crowd of gathered students, teachers, friends, and families, imagining that he could pick out his parents and Cooper, Kurt and the Hudson-Hummels, Mr. Schue and the New Directions, and Sebastian and the Warblers out from amongst the masses.

As valedictorian, he’d been expected to make a speech, but, in deciding to keep up with glee club tradition until the very end, he’d decided to sing instead. Principal Figgins had been tripping over himself to accommodate Blaine since he’d returned to school in April, so he’d been more than willing to allow for the break from tradition.  
  
Blaine took a deep breath and put his fingers to the keys. And then he started to sing.  
  
 _I am unwritten,_  
 _Can't read my mind, I'm undefined  
I'm just beginning, _  
 _The pen's in my hand, ending unplanned  
  
Staring at the blank page before you  
Open up the dirty window  
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find  
  
Reaching for something in the distance  
So close you can almost taste it  
Release your inhibitions_  
  
 _Feel the rain on your skin  
No one else can feel it for you  
Only you can let it in  
No one else, no one else  
Can speak the words on your lips_  
  
 _Drench yourself in words unspoken_  
Live your life with arms wide open  
Today is where your book begins  
The rest is still unwritten

\-----

On June 8, 2013, nearly three months after being attacked, Blaine walked across the stage in the McKinley High auditorium, accepting his high school diploma to loud cheers from family and friends in the crowd and switching his tassel from the right to the left with a grin.

\-----

The summer passed by in a flurry of activity. Blaine quickly decided he wasn’t going to stay in the dorms when he had so many friends moving to New York already. Sam had gotten into a small art school that Blaine had encouraged him to apply to after seeing the macaroni art and comic books he worked on his spare time, and Tina was planning to attend Columbia—and Blaine had laughed when he told her she’d be in the same incoming class as Sebastian. Artie, as it turned out, was also going to New York in the fall for film school, surprising no one.  
  
Kurt offered Blaine a place in the Bushwick loft, but he turned it down when Sam and Tina approached him about getting a place together. The three combed over apartment listings in the Lima Bean or the Hudson-Hummel living room for hours on end, and Blaine spent two different weekends in New York visiting Tisch and checking out apartments with his parents—and Kurt, who wanted to give his own stamp of approval on whatever place Blaine chose.  
  
Blaine also spent a memorable weekend in LA with Cooper, watching him film a commercial, seeing different touristy sights, and even hanging out with Mercedes, who took him on a tour of the recording studio where she was working on her debut album.  
  
Between sorting through his belongings deciding what to take to New York and what to leave behind, Blaine also spent a lot of time with the New Directions, sometimes at gatherings of just the older members when they made it home for the summer; sometimes with just the younger members who wanted to spend time with the graduated seniors before they left; and, on a few occasions, both.  
  
Watching Mike and Jake go at it on a marathon session of DDR before Unique and Mercedes, home for a few days, took over the karaoke machine that had been set up in the Hudson-Hummel basement had been particularly memorable, especially after they’d pulled Blaine in to join them and his knee hadn’t given a single twinge in protest.  
  
Blaine also slowly started working back up to boxing once his PT cleared him, though he found it less necessary the more he worked on his own music, which he began testing out at a few open mic nights in Columbus. However, there were still some times he just  _needed_  the physical release that pounding a punching bag provided as well as the exhausted blanket of peace that settled over him after a particularly intense session.  
  
And Blaine spent time with Sebastian and his other Dalton friends. He spent the Fourth of July weekend at David’s family’s lake house with a group of Warbler alums, and he hadn’t realized until then how much he just needed to get away from it all for a little while and just have some simple  _fun_  without worrying about being judged or photographed.  
  
On the last night at the lake house before they planned to head back to Westerville, Blaine was sitting a bit further back from the group, nursing a beer. He was just this side of pleasantly buzzed but nowhere near as drunk as some of his friends. The sun had long since set and they had a fire going in preparation for making s’mores. Blaine might have worried about drunk people and fire safety, but Wes, home for the summer, was supervising so he let it slip from mind.  
  
Blaine blinked when Sebastian flopped down against a log next to him and saluted with his beer. Blaine raised his bottle in reply and took a sip as Sebastian settled himself on the ground. He saw Wes glance over and raise an eyebrow—he’d been furious when he’d heard about the slushie incident, and though Blaine had talked him out of flying back to ream out the Warblers, he knew Wes was more than a little wary of Sebastian and the friendship he and Blaine had rekindled in the wake of everything. Blaine shook his head slightly, and Wes gave a short nod before turning back to his conversation with David.  
  
“He doesn’t like me,” Sebastian said.  
  
Blaine frowned, glancing over at his friend. “Who?”  
  
“Montgomery,” Sebastian replied, nodding toward the group gathered around fire.  
  
Blaine had attended the Dalton graduation the previous month with Wes, and the other boy been downright chilly toward Sebastian during the Warbler party that night; Wes had also joined the Warblers in attending Blaine’s graduation but, again, had remained cool toward Sebastian, preferring to talk to Blaine, Kurt, or the other Warblers.  
  
“He’s kind of protective,” Blaine replied. “He took me under his wing when I first transferred to Dalton. I was really skittish and quiet back then, after the dance.” He felt more than saw Sebastian shift to look at him directly. Blaine, though, kept his gaze trained on the campfire as he spoke. “He got me to join the Warblers and helped pull me out of my shell. I owe him a lot. But he remembers me at a pretty low point in my life, so—”  
  
“The protective instincts kick in around the guy who nearly blinded you,” Sebastian finished. “I get it.”  
  
“Sebastian—”  
  
“No, Blaine. It’s fine. I deserve it,” Sebastian replied with a shrug as he took a long pull of beer.  
  
“I forgave you,” Blaine said softly.  
  
“Doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt you.”  
  
Blaine sighed but didn’t push the topic further. He wasn’t sure how much Sebastian had had to drink but didn’t feel like indulging him in case he became maudlin.  
  
“So what are you doing by yourself back here?” Sebastian asked after several silent minutes. “You know the guys are dying for you to lead another drunken sing-along.  
  
Blaine blushed and shrugged. “Thinking.”  
  
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t the point of this trip  _not_  to think for a few days? There’ll be plenty of that in the fall.”  
  
“No, it’s not that.”  
  
“Then what?”  
  
Blaine looked up at the stars as he considered what he was trying to say, mind absently tracing constellations he’d learned as a child, lying in the backyard alongside his father and Cooper, his father pointing out the different patterns and telling the stories behind them.  
  
“I’m just thinking about how grateful I am to be able to experience all this, I guess.”  
  
Sebastian shut his eyes, no doubt thinking about  _that_  night as well. The attack had affected them all deeply, and Sebastian had told him a little about how scared he’d been to hear the attack and to find Blaine, broken and bloody, in that parking lot. Blaine felt terrible that Sebastian had those memories when Blaine himself didn’t and likely never would, outside of the brief flashes he’d recovered in the first few weeks after he’d woken up.  
  
“I’m glad too,” Sebastian said quietly, opening his eyes again.  
  
They fell into silence after that, listening to their friends bicker over the best way to toast marshmallows over the fire while Wes tried to corral them.  
  
“Do you think about it?” Blaine asked after a time, unsure of what prompted it.  
  
Sebastian frowned. “About what?”  
  
“About what could have been? Between us?” And now who was getting maudlin?  
  
Sebastian inhaled sharply. “All the time,” he murmured. He paused. “I’d have broken your heart, you know. Back then.”  
  
Blaine took another sip of beer, thinking back to the Sebastian from junior year. “I know.” But he’d had his heart broken anyway; there didn’t seem to be any way around it.  
  
“But in the fall, if you’d transferred back—”  
  
“I’d have broken _your_  heart,” Blaine interjected. Sebastian frowned and Blaine turned to look at him. “I was too much of a wreck and hung up on Kurt.”  
  
“And now?” The question was barely more than a breath.  
  
For a moment, they stared at each other, Blaine watching the shadows from the campfire play across Sebastian’s jawline. He leaned forward and Sebastian sucked in a harsh breath, eyes slipping shut. Blaine placed a gentle, chaste kiss on Sebastian’s cheek before sitting back on his heels.  
  
“I think,” Blaine said as Sebastian’s eyes opened, “that in some parallel universe, you and I are amazing together.”  
  
“But not this one.”  
  
Blaine smiled sadly. He knew where his heart was and always would be, at least in this universe. “No, Bas. Not this one.”

\-----

Kurt was in a hurry as he grabbed his keys and checked his phone for another message; but there wasn’t anything new since Blaine had texted  _I’m downstairs_  ten minutes before. Blaine had been tight-lipped about the apartment he, Sam, and Tina had ended up signing a lease for, only promising Kurt that he would approve. They were planning to have a housewarming party later that week, but Kurt was getting a sneak preview tonight.  
  
“Say hi to everyone!” Rachel called as Kurt headed for the door.  
  
“Take pictures!” Santana added.  
  
“You’re going to see it in a couple of days, you know,” Kurt replied, pausing at the door to look back at his roommates, who were sitting on the couch in the living room.  
  
Santana shrugged. “Doesn’t make me any less curious as to what kind of hobbit hole Frodo and Samwise are being so secretive about.” She raised an eyebrow. “And, at least I’m not following you there. Clearly I’m growing as a person.”  
  
Kurt rolled his eyes. “ _Tremendous_  personal growth there, Satan.”  
  
Santana just threw him a wicked grin in return. “Don’t worry, Hummel. We won’t wait up. I think we all know what ‘sneak preview’ really means.”  
  
Kurt felt heat creeping up the back of his neck. As much as he might want to go there with Blaine again, Kurt was doing his best to respect his boundaries; Blaine needed time after everything he’d been through, and Kurt was giving him that. They’d stayed in contact all summer and had seen each other on Blaine’s visits to New York and Kurt’s visits to Lima, but they were still firmly in the Just Friends category.  
  
“Santana,” he groaned.  
  
“Wanky.”  
  
At that, Kurt was out of the door as quickly as he could go, though he heard Santana cackling as the door slid shut with resoundingly thud behind him. He took a breath to collect himself and then headed down the stairs, mind already going to how he could potentially get Blaine to spill about this mysterious apartment before they actually got there.  
  
“Excuse me.” The familiar voice made Kurt froze in the middle of the stairs, and he turned to see Blaine, a smile on his face, leaning against the entrance to the floor Kurt had just passed. He blinked in confusion. “Can I ask you a question? I’m new here,” Blaine added, glancing around the building.  
  
“Blaine? What—?” Kurt asked, his heart racing at the reminder of the day they’d met.  What was Blaine doing?  
  
“You wanted to see the new place, right?” Blaine asked. Kurt nodded dumbly and Blaine’s grin widened. “Well, come on then,” he said, pushing himself upright and waving for Kurt to follow him into the hallway.  
  
As he climbed the few stairs back up to the landing, Kurt finally registered what this must mean. “Wait,” he said, reaching out to grab Blaine’s arm, stopping the other boy. “You got an apartment  _here_?”  
  
Blaine opened his mouth to reply but was cut off when Sam stuck his head out of a door down the hall. “What’s the holdup, man? Where’s Ku— Oh,” he said, brightening. “Hey Kurt!”  
  
“Hi Sam,” Kurt managed squeak out in surprise.  
  
“You didn’t tell him!” Sam accused as Blaine and Kurt made their way toward him.  
  
“I was just about to,” Blaine replied in exasperation before turning to Kurt. He grinned as they came to a stop in front of the open door. “Welcome to our place. It’s still a work in progress, but—”  
  
Kurt cut him off, throwing his arms around Blaine. Blaine gave a small  _oof_  in surprise but quickly wrapped his arms around Kurt in turn. “You were right, I approve,” Kurt whispered.  
  
Blaine chuckled, and Kurt felt the vibrations in his own chest. “You haven’t even seen it yet.”  
  
“Doesn’t matter. It’s here.  _You’re_ here,” Kurt told him, stepping back. Blaine was giving him a thoughtful look, and Kurt suddenly felt self-conscious as he did his best not to squirm.  
  
“Are you guys going to stand in the hallway the whole night?” Tina called from inside, effectively breaking the spell. Blaine laughed again and gestured for Kurt to follow Sam inside and shut the door behind them.  
  
The space was open, much like the space Kurt shared with Rachel and Santana a few floors above, but Blaine, Sam, and Tina had already started putting up dividers for their individual spaces; it was a lot more put together than Kurt had been expecting for them only having been in the apartment for a couple of days.  
  
“Hi Kurt,” Tina waved from the kitchen.  
  
Kurt waved back as Blaine and Sam pulled him along for the brief tour of which space belonged to whom and which were the common areas. They already had a couch in the living room and a dinner table set up, but they were all still sleeping on air mattresses since their beds were supposed to be delivered the next day along with some other furniture like bookcases and dressers.  
  
“I can’t believe you’re living in the same building,” Kurt said, still in disbelief, once they’d all sat down at the table with the pizza they’d had delivered.  
  
Blaine shrugged, though he was smiling. “Once we saw the ad about an open space here, we jumped on it.”  
  
“It’s kind of out of the way, but the rent was cheaper and it’s got way more space than a lot of places we were looking at,” Tina said between bites.  
  
“And we need plenty of space for the adventures of Nightbird and the Blond Chameleon,” Sam chimed in.  
  
“And Asian Persuasion.”  
  
“You made your apartment choice based on your superhero alter egos?” Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked between the other three. Sam nodded like it was obvious.  
  
Blaine ducked his head, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “Well, that wasn’t the only reason.”  
  
Kurt felt his stomach swoop and glanced away quickly, so he missed Sam and Tina exchange a knowing look.  
  
“We’re going to get ice cream,” Sam announced, rising.  
  
Blaine looked up in surprise. “Oh. We’ll come.”  
  
But Tina shook her head. “We’re just going to run to the store. We’ll bring some back.”  
  
A strange expression crossed Blaine’s face then that Kurt couldn’t read, but he seemed to be having a silent conversation with Tina. Finally, Blaine nodded and seemed to deflate in his chair a bit. Interesting.  
  
“Okay,” he agreed. “We’ll be here.”  
  
Once Tina and Sam were gone, Kurt turned back to Blaine, who wasn’t meeting his eye. “What was that about?” he asked. When Blaine didn’t say anything, Kurt frowned. “Blaine?”  
  
Blaine looked up at that and there was startlingly open look on his face. “There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”  
  
“Something Sam and Tina couldn’t be around for?” Kurt asked, trying to sound flippant to cover the nerves rising in his gut.  
  
Blaine hesitated a moment before reaching across the table and taking Kurt’s hand. Kurt’s eyes widened as he looked between Blaine’s hand on his and Blaine’s face. Could this…?  
  
“I think I’m ready,” Blaine said after what seemed like an eternity. “To try this again. Us. If you want.”  
  
Kurt’s breath caught in his throat. “Really?”  
  
Blaine nodded, finally looking up. “I’m still in love with you, Kurt. I never  _stopped_  loving you. But I don’t want to make the same mistakes we did before. And I guess I needed some time to before I could trust myself  _not_  to fall back into those old habits.”  
  
“But you did?” Kurt thought his heart might pound right out of his chest.  
  
Blaine nodded.  “I think I did.”  
  
“I’ve thought a lot about it too, you know.” Blaine’s brows furrowed and Kurt gave him a small smile before adding, “About  _my_  habits.”  
  
The things Blaine had said during the fight in the Anderson library had stuck with Kurt, and he’d mulled over Blaine’s words for weeks into months, doing his best not to just be defensive but really think about his own part in the breakup. He’d thought he had already done that, but hearing the things Blaine had been holding onto for all that time had forced him to reevaluate a lot of things. So yeah, he knew what Blaine meant about taking the time. In hindsight, they  _both_  probably needed it.  
  
“And I love you, too,” Kurt said quietly. “But you knew that.”  
  
Blaine took a breath and said, “Kurt Hummel, would you like to go out on a date with me on Friday night?”  
  
Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand and he wondered if the other boy could feel his heart racing through the contact. “I would be honored.”  
  
Blaine’s smile was blinding, and Kurt was pretty sure his was just as bright.


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the epilogue to finish tying things up. This has been an amazing ride, and I’m extremely proud of the end product. All of the amazing comments I’ve received have meant the world to me while I’ve worked on this story, so thank you so much for the support! Special thanks to the lovely moviegeek03 who’s been a huge help through the whole process. So, without further ado…

**Grammy winner Blaine Anderson: “My story is one of survival, not victimization”**  
By Jennifer Shaw  
February 21, 2018

On the heels of what is sure to be the first of many Grammy appearances and wins, Billboard caught up with Best New Artist Blaine Anderson to discuss his award-winning debut album,  _Survivor_ , and the anti-bullying campaign the 23-year-old and his partner, up-and-coming fashion designer Kurt Hummel, are currently spearheading.  
  
 **Billboard:**  Congratulations on your awards! Quite the trifecta of Best New Artist, Album of the Year, and Best Pop Vocal Album for your debut album. How does that feel?  
 **Blaine Anderson:**  It’s completely surreal. Never in a million years would I have expected this. I started working on the album my senior year of high school and had it produced as my senior thesis at Tisch. It’s crazy and extremely humbling that so much came of such a personal project. I never expected anyone to hear it outside of my friends and family.  
  
 **BB:**  We’re sure most people know the story by now, but can you tell us about the inspiration for the album?  
 **BA:**  Sure. Simply put, I’m a hate crime survivor. Actually, survivor of two hate crimes. My freshman year of high school, I took another boy to a Sadie Hawkins dance and we were beaten up in the parking lot. I spent a week in the hospital. My senior year, I was attacked outside of a Starbucks and nearly died. It was a long recovery and because of the injuries, I’d lost all my usual outlets—boxing, singing, even playing the piano. As a way to get my voice back, I started composing music with software on my computer and it became a kind of catharsis. The music I was writing turned out to be telling my story. It all snowballed once I realized that.  
  
 **BB:**  Is the first attack where your first single, “Sadie Hawkins,” comes from?  
 **BA:** Yes. That was kind of a turning point for me, when I realized what it’s like to be hated for something you can’t control. It was terrifying to realize that. Honestly, sometimes knowing that still scares me, but like the song says, I think there’s also something empowering about being able to name that fear so you can move past it.  
  
 **BB:**  Why the name  _Survivor_?  
 **BA:**  I did an interview with the  _New York Times_  after the second attack, and when I told Mr. Davies [the interviewer] that I was sick of being a victim, he turned the phrase and made the focus of the piece about how I was a hate crime survivor, not a victim. That’s stuck with me since because yeah, I survived two attacks and have moved forward. My story is one of survival, not victimization, and that’s an important message to send to other people struggling in their own lives, I think.  
  
 _Editor’s note:_ Find the interview [here](http://purplehrdwonder.livejournal.com/33740.html#cutid1).  
  
 **BB:**  What’s next for you?  
 **BA:**  Well, I also have a tour planned for the album this summer, and soul goddess Mercedes Jones is going to join me for a few stops since we were friends in high school. But, most importantly, Kurt and I are getting married before I leave.  
  
 **BB:**  Congratulations!  
 **BA:**  Thank you! We’ve actually been engaged for a couple of years now, and we were going to have the wedding after I graduated, but then my album took off and there just hasn’t been time. But we’re making time now. He’s been planning the wedding since we were teenagers, though!  
  
 _Editor’s note:_  Kurt Hummel graduated from NYADA in 2016 and is currently the face of the runaway (and runway) hit Blackbird fashion line.  
  
 **BB:**  Have you thought about your second album yet?  
 **BA:** Of course! I started thinking about it as soon as I finished  _Survivor_. I’m hoping to convince Kurt and some of our friends [like Broadway starlet Rachel Berry] to sing with me on the new one as well, though that’ll have to wait until after the tour. My friend Sam [Evans], who did the cover art for  _Survivor_  and has designed some of the merchandise that’ll be on sale during the tour, is already showing me design ideas for the new album! [laughs]  
  
But I guess if the theme of album one was survival, then album two is going to be about living and all the amazing things life has to offer. I’m constantly inspired by things and people around me. It’s why I’m always jotting down chords or lyrics in the margins of papers or on napkins.  
  
 **BB:** Tell us a bit about New Directions.  
 **BA:**  New Directions is the non-profit anti-bullying, I guess venture would be the way to describe it, I’m working on with Kurt and a friend from high school, Sebastian Smythe. It’s named after Kurt’s and my high school glee club since that’s where we found solace from bullying and made life-long friends.  
  
 **BB:**  What does the “venture” entail?  
 **BA:** New Directions is part media campaign, part outreach, and part community center. The first physical branch will be opening in Kurt’s hometown of Lima, Ohio, in the fall as a safe space for kids, gay and straight, to come if they’re having a hard time at home or in school. We want to focus on small-town America where these types of issues are common but rarely reported. Or if they are, they get swept under the rug, as Kurt and I both know from personal experience.  
  
We also have a hotline kids can call or text, and we’re working on TV and radio PSAs. Sebastian and some of our other high school friends are working on some publications and lectures we hope to take to local schools. Mrs. Pillsbury-Schuester at McKinley [High School in Lima] has been a huge help with that.  
  
 **BB:** That sounds really involved.  
 **BA:**  It is, but it’s worth it if we can help even one kid. Being bullied is something you never forget, the constant feeling of fear and helplessness that comes along with it. A lot of the proceeds from my album sales and Kurt’s Blackbird fashion line go directly to funding New Directions. Kurt’s father, Congressman Burt Hummel, is a big supporter of it as well, which really helped it get off the ground back in Ohio.  
  
 **BB:**  Last question: If you could tell your younger self one thing, what would it be?  
 **BA:**  That you’re not alone. You have amazing people around you who love you and make you a better person. You’re going to make mistakes and get hurt and hurt other people, but as long as you let those people in, you’ll make it.  
  
 _For more information or to make a donation to New Directions, visit www.newdirectionsproject.org_.

  
_~ fin ~_   



End file.
